Ghost beyond the pages
by FanWriter Asher
Summary: In his 6thYear at Hogwarts, Harry must face the truth that as well as being The Chosen One, he's also a sixteen-year-old boy coming to terms with his sexuality. Coming out as Gay terrifies him but when befriending another gay student with the nick name 'Ghost' through a magical diary, Harry discovers he's falling in love - but he's determined to find out who Ghost is. Harry x Draco
1. Chapter 1

~Chapter One~

* * *

Harry ran his fingers over the soft feathers of the owl perched on the window ledge before him. "Fly, Hedwig." And with a light squeak, Hedwig leapt from the wooden frame and ascended into the night sky. Harry, having just showered and with still damp hair, tugged on the ends of his over-sized cotton jumper before he reached forward to pull the window too. The brass handle felt cold in his already numb fingers – he'd had the window open for a good hour or so and although he was freezing, he had allowed it so Hedwig could soar above and beyond the tower that was the boy's dormitories- well -the sixth-year Gryffindor boy's dormitories at least.

He stared out that window and watched as Hedwig – whose pearly white feathers seemed to shine somewhat like a Patronus – flew on and on until she became nothing but another star in the distance, on her way to deliver yet another letter he'd spent the morning writing to The Order. He was positive that Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy throne, line, and name, had initiated into an utterly devoted Death Eater. The others had to know of his worries. He was the Chosen one, right? His gut feeling had to be important in some way.

Harry hopped off his bed, the wooden floorboards beneath him freezing to the touch, and made his way for the stove in the centre of their room. As of that moment he was alone but it wouldn't be too long before lights out and the other boys were sent back to their room. He didn't feel particularly in the mood to have them nag at him at how cold it was. After lighting the flames within, he crawled back onto his four-poster bed and crossed his legs.

Harry shared his room, the tallest in the tower, with four other boys his age: Seamus, an Irish boy always covered in dirt and flames, whose voice often caused Harry to cringe after a time (especially at three in the morning when he'd be rambling on and on and on about God knows what) and who had a knack for blowing himself up. Then there was Dean, Seamus's best friend, somehow. Dean was very different to Seamus, being quieter and less eager to cause explosions. Of course there was Neville, an even quieter boy but not out of politeness, out of nervousness and fear of those that would taunt or make fun of him. These days – like most days, Harry then thought – Neville spent most of his time in the Library or the herbology classroom, although since the creation of Dumbledore's Army the previous year, Neville had started to train and practice in the room of requirement a lot more, especially when Luna offered to join him.

Peering at the bed to his right, he smiled. Ron. Was there really any explanation needed? Ron was…Ron. Harry's best friend. He had been since they first met on the Hogwarts's express five years ago. Of course, the two had their tiffs and squabbles, as most teenage boys do going through puberty and…essentially, High School. Or their twisted – yet amazing – version of it. He was thankful for Ron, thankful to have his best friend by his side, in more ways than one.

Of course, the famous/infamous (Depending on how you would view it) Wizard, Harry Potter, had lots of people wanting to call him friend, and he considered quite a few of them as just that. The Order, Dumbledore's Army, even the odd pupil in the corridor he spoke to every now and again, when he wasn't worrying about escaping a certain dark Lord. At that moment, Seamus and Dean were who knows where but Harry was sure Seamus was on fire; Neville, he was sure was in the greenhouse, but he knew Ron had a detention with Snape for calling him a 'Long-nosed Git' when Snape had failed one of Ron's homework assignments. Harry had tried to warn Ron Snape was behind him but he was too late. Harry was just thankful Snape did not punish him simply for standing too close.

There was a knock at the door, a knock that stunned him from his dreamily haze, and he bounced off the bed and slouched across the room. He was tired, he was so tired and had to fight to urge to yell at whoever it was to go away. Still, he opened the door and Hermione barged past him into his room.

"There you are! I've been knocking for ages!" She exclaimed as she threw her arms up in the air, yet her eyes were on the book in her hands.

"No you haven't, you literally just knocked." He argued as he closed the door behind him.

"Shush, I need to see the book."

The dormitories had been spelled to prevent boys and girls from entering one another's rooms but Hermione had broken through those enchantments years ago. The professors had enhanced them in their fifth year when the students were beginning to…develop less hateful feelings to one another – Hermione had slipped past them unnoticed just as easily as the first time. Harry was positive that if she weren't breaking the rules herself, she would have gone to Professor McGonagall and complained about the quality of her charms.

"So do you have it?" He realized he'd been drifting. He did that a lot recently, although often his day dreams were about another sneaking into his room at night.

"Have what?"

"The book, of course."

"Oh, right, yeah."

Harry nodded and reached into his bedside cabinet and handed her his copy of advanced potion-making. He had discovered a few weeks before that the book had been personally-annotated by a mysterious stranger who had called themselves' The Half-Blood Prince' Of course, there was no reference to a Half-Blood Prince anywhere, much to Hermione's annoyance. Harry had not been bothered, if anything the book was a miracle. A life saver. He had always been talented at potions but with everything that had been going on in his life the past few years, his mind had been elsewhere and he was sure he'd be failing potions without it.

Hermione took the book from him then scowled at the cover, and shook her head of mousey brown curls.

"Not that one, the other one you found in the library."

Oh.

That book.

* * *

Harry had found a book – or been left it, as Hermione argued. It had been three weeks ago to the day and Harry had been in the great hall, secretly watching Draco Malfoy out of the corner of his eye – with his white-blonde windswept hair, his dishwater eyes and pressed black robes – as he did a lot these days, when Draco's personal eagle-owl soared in through one of the tall, arched open windows and dropped a black envelope on the table top before her master. Harry had watched as Draco opened the letter with an indifferent, bored expression across his face but upon reading the words (which were written in gold, Harry could see, even from afar) his eyes widened and mouth dropped open into a little 'O' of shock. He glanced around and pulled the letter closely to his chest. Harry had frowned, wondering what had caused Draco to panic. With a gulp, Draco had risen from his seat and fled the great Hall.

Harry, only now realizing what a total tool he had been, had charged after Draco and demanded to know the details of the letter, having believed it _had_ to be something tied in with the information Harry now had, that Draco had evolved from high-school bully and ascended into an enemy. Draco, understandably, had refused and when Harry went to snatch the letter from him, Draco had shoved him back and the two sixteen year olds had drawn their wands.

"What on Earth is going on here?" Professor McGonagall had shrilled as she spotted them in passing. "Lower your wands, immediately!" The two boys had done so. Death Eater or not, Chosen One or not, you did not argue with Professor McGonagall. She had told them she did not care as to why the two boys were fighting (again) but that ten points had been taken from each house and they were to both attend detention. Draco would serve his in the Greenhouse with Professor Sprout, Harry in the library with Madam Pince.

That same night Harry spent hours in the library, cursing Draco beneath his breath, as he returned taken books to their allotted spaces, and in a library of tens of thousands of books, it took him a while. Eventually, the sky darkened and the lanterns lit of their own accord, student after student left and it was almost eight PM, when the library closed officially. Harry had finished returning the last of the books when all of a suddenly a small thump made him jump and he turned to see a thick, navy blue book laid out across one of the far tables.

"Who's there?" he had called. The library had been silent a long while, and he was absolutely certain that the book had not been there moments ago. " _Homenum Revelio."_ He cast. Nothing happened. Where ever the book had come from, it had not been a person who had placed it before him. As Harry approached, he had somehow known that the book was meant for him, for him to find at least. Whether to keep personally, or not, he was unsure, but that was what he did anyway. He had taken it back to the room when his detention came to an end and opened it. Hardback, full of a couple hundred blank yellowing pages. Nothing out of the ordinary until a word, scrawled in black ink, appeared on the page.

 _Hello_

Understandably, Harry had panicked and thrown the book the length of the room. He'd drawn his wand and cast as many shielding enchantments as he could. The last time he had opened a book such as this, he had been swollen by the memory of Tom Riddle. It had been Voldemort's diary he had been speaking too in his second year at Hogwarts. He was not going to take any chances this time, not after what it had done to Ginny.

The next day, Harry had taken the book straight to Hermione and Ron – he would have taken it to Dumbledore but he had been out of the castle and away from school grounds, again – and Hermione, being the smartest witch of her age, spent hours casting spell after spell, charm after charm, on the book and it revealed nothing. No other words came. In the end, she been left lost and confused.

Harry had taken the book to Dumbledore upon his return, then the next day Dumbledore handed it back to him and said it was nothing more than a finely made diary and Harry ought to keep it. Hermione, bewildered by their Headmasters response, had refused to accept that the book was just a book. It had greeted him, after all.

Without any answers, he had simply just kept the book and it had on his bedside table until out of boredom he had begun doodling on the very same page the welcome had appeared on. When he paused a moment to sharpen his pencil, his drawing of Hedwig sunk into the page and vanished. A moment later the charcoal surfaced like water and read the words.

 _I didn't know you could draw, you're good._

The days that followed had been stressful. He had argued with Hermione and Ron non-stop on what the book could be. Ron had wondered if maybe the book was possessed by a ghoul who just liked Harry's drawing and wanted someone to talk to. Hermione bit her usually long nails, terrified that it could have been planted there by someone who wanted to hurt Harry. It could be dangerous, yet if Dumbledore himself had ensured the safety of the book, Harry did not believe it could do him harm. Hermione had insisted that Harry speak with the source of the words, to try and gather any information he could on whom it could be and Harry, when he could be bothered, had done so.

* * *

As time passed, Hermione had forgotten about the book, or at least cared less than she had at the beginning, but it appeared that her obsession had resurfaced.

"Ah, that book." Harry turned away and begun making his bed, but only to hide his face from her.

"Yes, I need it." She urged, "I think I've figured it what this is!" She cried and flopped onto the end of Ron's bed. Always' Ron's. "In our third year, I was in the library with Parvati doing studying for Lupin's class, and she pulled out a pink diary and begun writing in it. I remember now how the words kept disappearing and she told me that her great auntie had brought she and her sister a special gift from her visit home to India. A set of diaries, nick-named Doppel-diaries."

Harry frowned at the name and she rolled her eyes, "Yes – it's a silly name but it's just a nick-name. Anyway, they are said to be the same book spelled into two and act as a communication method between whoever owns one diary and whoever owns the other. Don't you see? You've found a doppel-diary and you were talking with whoever has the other half!"

"Hermione, I don't know how you'll take this but…I threw that diary away last week."

Hermione's rage was abundantly clear. Harry wondered if the heat he felt was coming from her, or the stove behind him. "You threw it away?" She sounded like she was waiting for him to tell her it was a joke, but it was not. "Harry!" She huffed loudly and gently pressed her head to his wooden bed-frame. "I've spent weeks researching ways to find out who is on the other end and you go and throw it away just when figure it out."

Harry shrugged again and reached into his wardrobe to pull out some fluffy socks. He hated being cold in bed. "Dumbledore said there was no dark magic bound to it, it was just a book. Why keep it?"

All these words, he knew, were angering Hermione. When he finally faced her, he gave her a look to say. _What's done is done._ He knew he was lucky she hadn't slapped him on the arm. She enjoyed to do that, he thought.

"You complete arse." And with that, she headed towards the door. He followed her to the door and watched as she stormed across towards her own room. "Goodnight." The moment she stepped out onto the stairwell, he closed the door and slumped against it. _Bloody hell, Hermione,_ He thought. Hermione was one of his best friends. She – along with Ron – knew Harry more than anyone did and Harry found it incredibly difficult to lie to her. He crossed the space of the room and reached beneath his pillow, only to pull out the very same navy blue diary he had told her he'd thrown away. He ran his fingers over the smooth cover and toyed with the blue piece of ribbon that acted as a place holder.

As it turned out…Hermione had been telling him everything he already knew. He'd figured out, in his own, less complicated way, that the book acted as a communicative device. That he was talking to another living, breathing person. He hadn't known that these days they were simply called Doppel-diaries, but he'd known what he wrote in for hours on end each day. Harry had done what Hermione had told him and wrote to the unknown stranger receiving and replying to his scribbles. He had asked questions and answered the one's in return and Harry had discovered the owner of the other book in the pair belonged to a student attending Hogwarts's at that very moment.

At first that realization terrified him as this person could have very well been somehow he knew, someone who could spread the secrets he'd told should anything go awry between the two of them but as the days went on and the more they spoke, Harry began to trust in them.

Harry and this stranger – whom he had come to know as 'Ghost' Due to him originally wondering if the person on the other end was dead – spoke hours a day, for three whole weeks. In this time, they had come to discover a lot about one another, Ghost knew Harry was Harry as when he had asked who had been the one to find this copy, Harry had absent-mindedly told them. Ghost, on the other hand, was less interested in confessing his true identity. There were hundreds and hundreds of students at Hogwarts from each house, each year, and Harry had no idea who Ghost was. They talked from dawn till past midnight each day. They talked when they woke in the morning, as they dressed, at breakfast and in classes (when no one was looking) in-between classes, at Lunch and Dinner, getting ready for bed and finally, once in bed, they'd share stories until the moon was at its highest and sleep pulled them under.

He hated lying to Hermione and Ron, but Ghost had become something more than just a stranger beyond the pages. He'd become a friend. He'd become someone – something – more.

That was the thing. Harry Potter had more secrets than anyone could have ever guessed. Secrets no one would have guessed, yet the one that kept him awake at night, the one that made him tremble with a different kind of fear at wondering what his friends – Ron – might think if they found out. Harry was Gay. He'd figured it out last year, when he'd first kissed Cho Chang in the room of requirement. It had been wet and sloppy and – and nice. But there had been very little emotion to it at all. He'd enjoyed the kiss, but felt no…urges, for lack of better term, to kiss her again.

Then one day Harry ran into Oliver Wood, whom had returned to the grounds on Professor McGonagall's request to speak to members of the Gryffindor Team who had been slacking. Harry had demanded to know why he hadn't been told, being the team Captain, and Oliver confessed McGonagall didn't want Harry to have to worry about his players when he had so much on his plate to begin with. He was grateful for her thinking of him but it was his team. He promised to be a little harsher on them next time. He spoke to Oliver though, and thought at the time how happily surprised he had been to see an old, friendly and familiar face.

Well, familiar in a way. Oliver had gone on to join a professional Quidditch team and in doing so, had changed physically. He had been fit before but now, a grown man, his chest puffed out with muscle and his hair was shorter, curlier than Harry remembered. His eyes were wide and bright with excitement of his new career outside of Hogwarts, and when Oliver gave Harry that same old wink and half-smile, Harry found a strange feeling growing in his chest.

And, more embarrassingly, something growing elsewhere.

It was then that he first realized he was attracted to men, and not women. It hadn't been like in the movies he'd seen in the past, or even in books he'd read as the library, surprisingly, had a diverse LGBTQ collection. He just did not see it as that big a deal at first. He'd find himself looking at the other boys while getting dressed in the changing rooms in his peripheral vision. Risking glances their way in the showers, especially the older boys. Even Cormac McLaggen, who had been asking Harry about Hermione. Harry found himself focusing solely on Cormac's lips and how plump they were and he wondered how they tasted. When he was younger, he had thought McLaggen had been annoying and unattractive in general, but these days as a hard-working member of the Quidditch Team, his shoulders had broadened, his jaw had squared and he had a somewhat nice smile. Harry was attracted to him physically but he could never be with someone as self-centred as Cormac.

God, he hoped Ghost wasn't Cormac.

Yes, Harry was Gay and he knew – somehow he knew – Ghost was too. He opened the book to the saved, blank page and wrote. _Hello, Ghost. You there?_

He waited until the reply surfaced. _I'm here. Over your tantrum, are you?_

 _Yes, sorry, I was a prick this morning._

 _You were._

Harry rolled his eyes but found the corner of his mouth twitching up. That was another great thing about Ghost, he wasn't afraid to say the things that needed to be said. He wasn't afraid to telling Harry when he was being a prick and that morning, he had a nightmare and woke up in a foul mood and wrote some snappy things to Ghost. He didn't just tell Harry when he was out of check, he also spoke to Harry in a way others didn't. He asked the questions everyone else deemed too sensitive and risky to ask him. Questions like "Do you think Voldemort will win?" He wasn't afraid to say his name, or write it, in fact. "Do you ever feel bad for dragging your friends into all of this, how does it make you feel knowing their live are in danger all the time because of you? Do you dream? Or do you only have nightmares." These questions were questions that to an outsider, may come across as offensive, intrusive and personal, and in a way, they were but Harry answered them anyway. He enjoyed the fact that Ghost did not see Harry as fragile, as someone to be careful with.

 _Are you okay now?_

 _Yeah_ Harry tugged on the cotton of his socks.

 _Good, you're ugly when you're miserable. You're cute when you smile._

Harry felt his cheeks flaming. His heart beat a little faster and he even looked around just to make sure no one could see him this way.

 _Nightmare?_ Ghost wrote.

 _Nightmare._ Harry wrote back, thankfully he did not need to respond to that compliment.

 _I understand how you feel. How anyone can sleep around here, with everything that's going on, is beyond me._

Harry wondered if this was what texting was like. He had a phone back home – Dudley's old one – but he could not text anyone on it even if he wanted to. _I think they jus-_

The pencil in Harry's hand broke on the page, smudging the charcoal. Harry cursed under his breath and watched as the half-finished sentence vanished. Ghost replied only with a question mark. Harry leaned over to get a pencil sharpener. He could have used ink and quill but there would be no ink left in the castle.

 _Sorry, the pencil broke,_ He explained, _I meant to say that I think most people just ignore what's going on._

The words disappeared, but before Ghost could reply he wrote some more. _It would be a lot easier to speak with you in person, if I knew who you are?_

It was a full minute before Ghost replied.

 _No. We can't. I've told you before, I'm not ready to talk to you in person, Harry. I don't want you to know who I am yet; I know it's unfair and cruel but I can't. I'm not ready to come out._

"I'm not ready to come out either" Harry realized he'd spoken aloud as if Ghost could hear him, then his stomach plummeted until he remembered he was alone in the room. He wrote what he'd just spoken.

 _Maybe someday soon, but for now you just need to know me as Ghost._

* * *

Harry and Ghost spoke for another hour and a half until he heard Seamus and Dean climbing the stairs, and from the sound of it, Ron was with them too. He must have joined them on the way up to their dorm. Harry panicked and then quickly drew a small lightning bolt. A symbol the two had decided to use whenever something came up and they couldn't talk anymore and didn't have time for a proper goodbye. The lightning bolt had been Ghost's idea, he enjoyed to joke about Harry's legendary scar.

"Alright Harry?" Dean asked as he burst through the door with the other two boys behind him. Harry had barely managed to hide the book in time. Harry took off his glasses and leaned back, acting as if he were about to fall asleep. Hoping the others would just follow on.

"Alright." He nodded back. Seamus did not acknowledge Harry, instead he was laughing about something with Dean. Ron walked over then and nodded a hello to Harry.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged, "Yeah, how was it?"

Ron went on to explain what Snape had him do, he had been on his hands and knees for hours cleaning potion stains off the potions room floor. Ron was outraged. "He's not even the bloody potions master anymore, he shouldn't be able to make me do that." Harry nodded in agreement, huffing and shaking his head when he needed to but he was trying not to imagine Ron on his hands and knees…

He didn't like Ron that way. He had to admit Ron was kind of hot in a strange, manly kind of way. Ron didn't have abs, he didn't even have a flat stomach, and he sweated more than usual and he farted in his sleep too. But Harry still found himself turned on by Ron's laughter, his eyes, his comforting nature and his smell. He smelt nice, Harry thought. He didn't like Ron in that way, and knew for a fact Ron was straight. (He could not stop going on about the things he did with Lavender Brown) but that didn't mean he couldn't think he was attractive.

When Neville returned, and the others were all in bed, Harry lay back in the darkness and thought about what Ghost looked like. He wondered if he was short or tall, dark or light haired, what did ghost smell like? Harry hoped he smelt nice, hoped he had a nice voice and pretty eyes too. He didn't care what the body was like, as long as he was healthy. The more Harry thought about it, he didn't care what Ghost looked like at all. He just wished he knew.

Before bed every night, Harry liked to list what he knew about Ghost's identity in hopes a face would suddenly come to mind.

He was a boy.

He was sixteen, like Harry.

He was a Hogwarts Student,

He was not a Gryffindor and Harry guessed not a Hufflepuff, he was too outspoken, and not a Slytherin either: Ghost liked him. Maybe a Ravenclaw.

He and Harry had seen each other in person before, and spoken, apparently.

But the newest fact, and most important, was he thought Harry was cute when he smiled.

* * *

Asher's Note:

Hello Everyone! Thank you for reading the first chapter of my new story! I thought this up an hour ago and decided to give it a go. Honestly, I don't know how this story will play out or how long it will go on for. This story is set sometime during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, and the story will focus on Harry coming to terms with his sexuality, coming out of the closet maybe, and his ongoing strange relationship with a mysterious person known only to him as 'Ghost' From the story's cover and description, I've already explained that Draco Malfoy is Ghost. But this was not meant to be a surprise anyway. I wonder where this story will go. Also, warning now, this story will most likely become very sexually graphic in later chapters and I advise you don't read unless you are at least sixteen years of age.

Thanks for reading, please review, bye!

~Asher~


	2. Chapter 2

~Chapter Two~

* * *

Before he had even opened his eyes, Harry was already reaching beneath the pillow for the diary, as he had done every morning since realizing that he had feelings for his 'Ghost'. Just to feel the warm leather in his hands brought him a sense of comfort he had not felt since before the events that took place in the depths of the Ministry the year before – and these days he craved that comfort more than anything else. He looked around the room to find the other boys still sock on, which made him smile. He usually was the first to wake, as he slept very little in general these days, thanks to the never-ending nightmares he had fallen victim to. Back before Harry had found the diary, he would have spent his mornings in bed completing the homework assignments due in that same day, but now he used this free, quiet time to write to Ghost, overdue assignments or not.

He slid on and adjusted his round glasses then opened the book to any random page. Before he could press pencil to paper, a message appeared, scribbling in Ghost's unusually cursive handwriting were the words:

 _Good morning, cutie._

Harry beamed. Not matter how early Harry woke, Ghost was always the first to say hello and it made him smile, knowing that Ghost's first thoughts in the morning were of him. He was also beginning to like this 'cute' thing. He had never been called cute before in his life, not to his knowledge at least, and he liked it.

 _Morning to you, handsome._ He did not know is Ghost was in fact handsome. He hoped he was – it wouldn't matter if he wasn't – but he hoped he was.

 _Did you sleep well, any night terrors last night?_ Ghost asked and Harry winced.

 _No_ , Harry lied. He had suffered yet another nightmare but this had been a mild one, well, mild compared to what he was used to. It was still plagued with images of his dead loved ones and the moment they were taken from him. His mother as she cast herself before him to save his life, Cedric being blown the length of the graveyard in which Voldemort had been resurrected, his already cold body staring off emptily into the distance, Bellatrix's screaming voice as she cursed her own cousin to death and the way Sirius crumpled into himself and fell backwards through the veil into the afterlife. A night of blood, death, flashes of blinding green light and yet it had still not made his top ten worse nightmares.

 _You are a terrible Liar, Potter, even when talking through here._

Harry's brows furrowed. _You don't call me Potter?_

There was a solid minute wait before the reply came through.

 _Sorry, the others around here refer to you as it and I thought I would give it a go. You're correct, I prefer Harry. Just Harry._ Then _Or Cutie_

Harry felt something in his gut wrench, something was off about this. Harry may have been an awful liar himself but that did not mean he couldn't detect when he was being lied to. Ron's stirring murmurs caught his attention and Harry quickly scribbled down

 _I'm going to go shower, talk soon._ Then added a little lightning bolt as a full stop.

He did not wait for a reply, instead he slid the book back beneath his pillow and hopped out of bed. As quietly as possible, he made his way to his chest from which he pulled out his school robes and dropped them into an old bag. His trousers were dirty from the day before, but he had not bothered to clean them. His jumper, too, was stained from potions class when Ron had accidentally added the wrong ingredient to a draught and it had caused a Seamus-Scale explosion, the result of which had been the unfortunate staining of Harry's jumper. Instead, he slid in a white polo shirt he knew would feel too tight – probably the one he had worn the year before, but as Gryffindor team captain, he had built up more muscle on his chest than ever before – but then added his old robes he could just tie around his neck afterwards. It wasn't a requirement to wear a jumper beneath your robes, but it was the more formal attire. He didn't care. It had been a long time since Harry Potter had cared about following the rules, especially silly ones such as uniform.

Reaching into one his wardrobe drawers, he pulled out some boxers, socks and his school shoes before heading down to the closest boy's bathroom. Once inside, he looked around to find another boy finishing up in the showers. A dark skinned seventh year boy, which curling black locks but honey coloured eyes.

"Hiya, Harry." The boy said but turned back to the shower hose to wash his hairy armpits. Harry did not know his name but of course the boy knew him. Harry tried to avert his gaze as he set down his bag and reached for a fresh towel from one of the cabinets. The boy stood at the far end of the room, rinsing his thin but toned body of shampoo suds. Looking away was more difficult than he thought, the boy had beautiful skin, and a bum Harry found himself desperately wanting to bite.

Harry was grateful that the boy changed into his robes and left before Harry had a chance to strip down. He wasn't sure he could have hidden the erection already growing in his pants. He'd seen the boys bum for only a few seconds but it had been enough. He decided he was definitely a bum kind of guy.

He pulled his wand out of his pyjama pocket and flicked it towards the door. " _Colloportus."_ He mumbled and the doors sealed shut with a quiet thump. It wasn't that he was bothered about other boys coming in, it's just he didn't want anyone to catch him wanking the thought of the boy's bare backside away. When he was finished, he showered and dried himself off before changing into the clothes he'd packed. He thought about the way he'd touched himself, and how he'd thought of touching and pleasing the dark-skinned boy, although when he moaned the only sound that came out of his mouth was Ghost's name.

By the time he got back to his room he found Neville gone already (Harry was sure Neville was using the room of requirement as a bathroom and private changing room these days. He had never been comfortable changing in front of the other boys and now he didn't need to. As long as Neville's underwear didn't start showing up when they used the room to train the members of the D.A. Harry wasn't too fussed. Ron was up, his red hair a mess atop his head, yawning widely as he pulled his jumper on inside out.

"Inside out." Harry said as he passed. Ron just nodded and took it off to take it back on. Seamus and Dean were mid-conversation about something or other, Harry rarely listened to them.

"What classes do you have today?" Ron asked.

"Only a few, one this morning and two this afternoon. Potions, Defence and Charms," He answered. Ron groaned, probably only just being reminded that he too had potions that morning. Ron had been bullied into taking potions with Harry at the beginning of the year, thanks to professor McGonagall, and Ron hated it! Especially since Harry was top of the class, thanks to the unique version of Advanced Potion Making Ron had forced Harry to end up with, regrettably. Slughorn was beginning to adore Harry, surely wanting to 'collect him', as Dumbledore had predicted and desired.

Soon enough the boys were ready and putting their bags over their shoulders. Harry set down his wand, then followed the boys out of the room. When they were by the portrait Harry tutted to capture Ron's attention. "Forgot my wand, one sec." He hurried back up the steps and into their room, where he collected the wand he had purposely left, and took out the diary. He opened the page and read Ghost's reply from earlier.

 _Don't forget to thoroughly wash your bum._

And along with it a little doodle of a cartoon bum. It made Harry laugh, then he remembered Ron and slid the book into his bag before heading back out of the room.

* * *

It was still early and the first period classes did not star for another hour at least, so Harry and Ron decided to head down to breakfast and met Hermione on the way. Her robes were spotless, of course, and her mousey brown hair hung down her back in loose ringlets. It was still wet from her shower, and Harry could not wait for it to dry when it would frizz up and he could have a good laugh at it.

"Morning." Ron yawned at her.

"Good Morning," She greeted only Ron, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're not still pissed I threw away that book, are you?"

"Yes, I am. Weeks of research into this mystery book that could help us, help the Order, flushed down the drain." She exclaimed. Harry knew she was right. If the Order had one of these books, then it would be so much easier to pass information on to one another than waiting for their owls to deliver letters. Harry had also wanted to try and learn how Sirius had appeared to the three of them in the coals of the hearth their previous year but Hermione had insisted he focus on his school work when they weren't dealing with the matters of the Order. But on the other hand, Harry only had one half of the book anyway. Ghost had no part in any of this, they couldn't just take the book from him. Harry knew that they could, if he wanted. He could see it all playing out in his head, he telling Hermione he'd found the book and she'd find a way to track down the owner of its twin, and they'd be able to somehow steal it from him and send it to the Order. Though Harry couldn't bring himself to do it, as he knew if they did then he would stop talking to Ghost and he didn't want that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He sighed away these troubling thoughts and instead thought only of food. The great hall was full of other Hogwarts students hurrying around, completing homework assignments, eating from the large platters that lay out across the table tops; large golden and silver plates full of freshly buttered toast, sausages and bacon and bowls of beans. Dozens of kinds of eggs all prepared before them smelling delicious. Fresh orange juice and cups of tea and coffee.

Ron scoffed down three of almost everything.

"Honestly Ron, you'd think you'd be the size of an elephant with how much you eat." Hermione looked disgusted but at the same time could not bring herself to move away, and instead reached up and wiped away some ketchup from the corner of his mouth. He shrugged.

"Someone's got to eat it. House Elves work all day making our dinner, be rude not to eat it, wouldn't it?" She could have argued with him but just sighed and turned back to the book she was reading. Harry glanced down at the bag in which he kept his school books and saw the diary, the blue velvet cover looking particularly dusty in the early grey light of morning. He wanted nothing more than to reach and pull it out, he remembered he has not asked how Ghost had slept, and he also wondered if he had dreamt of him. Ghost confessed the week before that he dreamt of Harry a lot these days, especially since they had started talking and Harry was ridiculously jealous. He wished he could dream of Ghost, especially if those dreams included him being naked – but he had told Hermione that he'd thrown it away, and he knew that if she found out the truth not only would she scold him for lying to her, she'd want to know why and whom he was speaking to.

In a sense, Harry wanted to know the answer to that question too. Now more than anything. Though he did not want Hermione's help, not if it meant coming out as – as gay. He knew his friends would support him, he knew they'd be completely fine with it, including Ron who would only make some joke about how he knew all along and if it wasn't Draco, he hoped Harry would get some soon. Another reason he craved to meet Ghost, to touch him, to feel him. Wanking on his own when no one was around was already beginning to get boring when he could have Ghosts body pressed against his, beneath him, his lips on his skin.

There was a sudden crash of wood and Harry spun along with everyone else in the hall to the Slytherin table. Two boys were shoving at one another until one of them threw a punch. Immediately, dozens of students were running forward and yelling 'Fight! Fight! Fight!' In his first three years Harry had been one of them but these days Harry just thought it was stupid.

"We're in the middle of a war," He said turning back to the breakfast he had barely touched, "and they're fighting over what, a girl?" He scoffed.

"The pot calling the kettle black." Hermione said.

"Huh?"

"I'm saying that just a few weeks ago Professor McGonagall had to spell you and Draco apart when you were at each other's throats." He felt his cheeks burn with colour, realizing she was right.

"It's different with Draco," he argued sipping his tea. "Draco's…different."

He didn't know how, but he knew Draco Malfoy was something different. He was like no boy Harry had ever known. He'd met him at eleven and disliked him ever since but this year, Draco was different. He had turned from a childhood bully into an impending death eater. Soon, when Voldemort makes his move, Draco would be fighting to kill those Harry cared about deeply and Harry would not allow that to happen. He was sure that was what had been bugging Draco. Every time Harry saw him Draco was staring off absentmindedly into space with a look on his face that could only express his fear and horror of something.

Thinking of Draco, Harry glanced down the Slytherin table to find Draco staring right at him. Not staring off into his thoughts but at him. Harry wanted to smirk, to scowl, but instead he just met his eyes until Draco let out a deep sigh and turned back to the book on the table before him.

"Let's go." Harry said as he finished his drink and sat up from the bench.

"I'm not full!" Ron protested, yet Harry was already on his way out of the great all with Hermione rambling about Ron's health on his tail.

Harry had potions that morning with Ron and Hermione, so together the three of them made their way throughout the ancient halls of Hogwarts and down one of the many curving staircases towards the potions classroom in the dungeons. They were few of the first students to arrive, and luckily for Harry, Hermione sat on the opposite side of the classroom so he could pull out the diary and speak to Ghost. He hid it behind another book though, just to be on the safe side.

 _I'm in potions class. Slughorn isn't even here yet and I want to leave._

 _That daft old fool. I'm surprised you haven't chugged a bottle of bloodroot yet._

 _He's not that bad_

 _Ha. Please. You're only saying that because you're his new favourite._

 _How do you know that, are you in this class?_

 _No, but I have friends who are._ Harry's eyes snapped up and he scanned the faces of the students, some of them he knew and some he didn't. Some he liked and others he didn't. Someone in this room knew Ghost's real name, perhaps even knew Ghost was flirting with Harry Potter. But who? Before Harry could ask any further questions that may have hinted at Ghost's true identity, the boy in the page wrote down a face that resembled a wink, then a lightning bolt to signal his leave.

He sighed, defeated, and put away the diary. Not now, but one day he would know.

* * *

It was lunch, the sun was high in the sky and the others were contemplating going down to visit Hagrid before Afternoon classes started again. Harry, however, had already been down to see his friend after potions ended. He had tea and rubbed Fang's belly and talked to Hagrid about everything but the existential troubles of his life. It was nice. Afterwards he spent the remaining hour in the common room, his robe untied and shoes off, feet tucked beneath him as he wrote to Ghost who was at that time in Transfiguration class, complaining about how it was a waste of his time when he could have been sleeping. Harry agreed.

But at Lunch, he sat at the table and attempted to fill his butterfly infested stomach with whatever he could, but discovered his appetite had vanished and those butterflies were beginning to feel like bats.

"I'm not feeling well so I'm going back to bed." He told Hermione and Ron, whom had been speaking to him but he had zoned out a long time ago.

"Back to bed? Go see Madan Promfrey, you can afford to be missing classes." Hermione told him, but Harry shook his head. She was right, Hermione was never wrong, but Harry wouldn't go to the hospital wing. He would go back to bed. He said a quick goodbye to his friends who watched him go, then made his way out of the hall.

Draco barged by and glanced over his shoulder,

"Out of the way, Potter," he then flashed him a smile of pearly whites and vanished into the crowd. Harry clenched his fists, desperate to punch Draco's smug little face. Harry was so focused on his hatred of Draco Malfoy and his upset stomach he did not see the boy heading his way until it was too late and he crashed into the front of him. With a harrumph, Harry hopped back and begun mumbling his apologies.

At first he noticed that the boys' black robes were lined with yellow sleeves and collar, presenting him as Hufflepuff student, but then Harry found himself taking in the finer details of this strange boy; from his neatly combed mousey brown hair down to his unusual yellow high-tops. He thought how the boy would be punished if he were caught wearing casual shoes as part of his uniform. Harry dragged his eyes back to the boy's face and found he had warm eyes, reminding him of sweet caramel. The five o'clock shadow on his jaw and chin aged him quite a bit but he couldn't be much older than Harry if he were student. He had a small scar on one corner of his neat eyebrows, and a speckle of freckles across his nose Harry thought were adorable.

His broad smile did little to prevent Harry from panicking. God, this boy was beautiful. Not hot, or sexy, but beautiful.

"Sorry, Harry," The boy nodded when he spoke, and threw his hands up in the air. "Late for lunch, didn't meant to run into ya." He had a high voice, not high as in feminine, but high and cute.

"No, yeah, it's fine. Don't worry about it." Harry said, feeling guilty he didn't know his name. He didn't need to know his name, honestly. He'd seen his face. The boy then pulled his mouth into a closed mouth smile before darting around him and into the hall. Harry helplessly turned back to the great hall and leaned against the giant frame, he rested his head against the wood and watched hopelessly as the boy dropped down at the Hufflepuff table and patted his friend on the shoulder and begun chatting. Then another Hufflepuff girl skipped over and the boy pulled her into a great embrace, spinning her on the spot. Of course, he was straight, of course he was. A part of Harry had just hoped that boy would casually come out as Ghost, pin him to the wall and kiss him, but he hadn't.

Trying not to feel like Sandy from Grease, he huffed out a breath and made his way back up to his room.

* * *

The moment he barged into the room, he kicked off his shoes and untied his robes. He didn't bother to change, instead he stripped to his boxers and climbed into bed. His stomach really was upsetting him, he felt as if he had eaten something off just hoped he wouldn't be knelt in front of the toilet bowl all night, or worse, sat on it. His quilt and pillow were warm still and he could have dozed off then and there but he couldn't _not_ talk to Ghost. He reached and pulled the book out of his bag and opened it to find an unread message waiting for him.

 _Not hungry?_

Harry frowned, but then realized something _You were in the great hall just now?_

 _I was._

 _No, I'm not feeling too well. I've decided to spend the day in bed feeling sorry for myself_. A pause, then he added _Care to join me?_

 _Perhaps one day, Harry Potter, one day. Don't get me wrong, I want nothing more than to break into the Gryffindor Common Room, sneak to your dorm room and slide into bed bedside you. I have spent many day dreams in that bed with you, holding you close. Kissing your scar._

It made Harry's heart ache as he pictured Ghost sliding into his bed and snuggling him close to his chest. In his mind, Ghost's appearance changed each day. Some days he had a pointed face and others he had a rather defined, square jaw. Harry often pictured running his fingers though short, dark hair but would not mind if his hair was fair, the same rules applied to his skin. He couldn't care if he were as pale as…well, Draco Malfoy, or as dark as the boy from the showers. In fact, he found himself curious as to the rumours regarding the links between race, colour and size.

 _Do you have any scars?_

 _No visible ones, why? You think you've found me out? Huh?_

 _I was just curious. I saw someone and wondered_. A moment later he added, _Ignore me, it's stupid._ He shouldn't have said that; he did not want to talk about the Hufflepuff boy and have Ghost feel bad about not being the one. Though instead of asking whom exactly, he only wrote.

 _Was he hot?_

Harry actually giggled. Such a Ghost thing to say. He could be very…boy, when he wanted to be. He replied with: _Very_

 _Fuckable?_

Harry's thoughts circled back to the Hufflepuff boy, and his mousey hair and caramel coloured eyes, and his almost goofy smile. He then thought of what was behind his robes. What kind of body lay beneath, did he have muscles? Much Chest hair? Was he well equipped? Harry's cheeks exploded with colour and he looked up to check the door was closed before smiling.

 _Very_ He wrote again.

 _I'd tell you to go for it, have fun, but truth be told if anyone gets to fuck you it should be me._

 _So, that settles the awkward 'who's the girl in the relationship?' question then?_

 _I know you have a short attention span, so this information may have slipped you by, but we are both male. It's kind of the point of being Gay._

Harry rolled his eyes. _Smartass. Maybe I want to fuck you instead._ He felt dirty writing it, and still felt as if maybe he had an actual ghost peering over his shoulder who could expose not only him homosexuality but how dirty he could be to the entire school. Just to be safe, he spelled his room clean of any unwanted visitors and locked the door.

 _Hmm. Interesting idea. I guess we'll have a large range of fun things to try._ Ghost then wrote a list of very descriptive sexual activities.

Again, he pictured Ghost (This time with longish blonde hair tucked behind his ears and large blue eyes) climbing into his already small bed where he grabbed Harry fiercely and kissed him passionately, then after minutes of breathless making out and groping, He spinning Harry onto his stomach, pulling down his boxers and taking him then and there, in his room and bed in the middle of the day. Spontaneous, passionate, secret and amazing. He found his boxers tighter than they had been moments ago. He wrote with one hand and thumbed around with the other.

 _Let's do it. Meet, I mean. I want to see you, Ghost, please. It's killing me. It's been three weeks and It's killing me not knowing who you are._

 _Whom._

 _Ghost!_ He scribbled frustrated.

 _Fine._

Harry had not been expecting that response, at all. He'd expected to argue with ghost lightly a little longer before Ghost cleverly found a way to change the subject without Harry realizing it, as he had done many times since first speaking to one another. He waited for the punch line, there wasn't one.

 _Really?_

 _Fine, Harry. I've actually been planning something out, a way for us to meet._ Harry let go of his member and sat upright, feeling his heartbeat accelerating and a permanent smile forming on his face.

 _Face to face? Finally?_ He hoped, he prayed.

 _Kind off._

* * *

Asher's Note:

Hello Everyone! Thank you to all who read and reviewed the first chapter and I hope you enjoy this one. Little note, it can be difficult to write descriptively when Harry and Ghost are talking to one another. I hope the way I have done it suffices. Any ideas what Ghost means?

Thanks for reading, please review, bye!

* * *

Responding to your reviews:

Sunami3: I'm happy to hear you are intrigued. Unfortunately, I don't have a regular updating schedule. I update whenever I finish a chapter, and I finish whenever I do. Sorry.

Maya Poltergeist: Thank you so much, I'm thrilled you are enjoying!

Morrm8894: Thank you for your nice review. Not sure what you mean at the end there, if it is a spelling error or a glitch of the site, but I'd like to know what you meant.

The Night Goddess: Thank you, such a sweet review. I hope to hear your thoughts on this one.

DRERRY: Here you go, aha.

~Asher~


	3. Chapter 3

~Chapter Three~

LINE

Polyjuice Potion. Ghost wanted to use _Polyjuice Potion?_ Harry wasn't sure why he was freaking out over this as he'd taken Polyjuice potion before in their second year, when he and Ron had gone undercover as Crabbe and Goyle to attempt to figure out whether or not Draco Malfoy was in fact the heir of Slytherin. When he thought of the thick, bubbling, mud-like potion he still felt his insides writhing and the uncontrollable urge to vomit. It was only when Ghost reminded him that he already knew who Harry was, and that Ghost would be the one magically transforming into another person that Harry started to consider this. All Harry would have to do was show up.

From the corner of his eye he saw words rise to the surface of the page and ripple out like water. When he peered over to where he had lay down the diary on his bedside cabinet, he saw that Ghost had written the words. ' _Harry?'_ He had not realized how long he had been thinking about it, and snatched the diary up and pressed his pencil to the paper…. but could not think of what to say.

He could finally meet Ghost – but did he want to? The obvious answer was yes, of course he wanted to. He wanted to see him smile and hear him laugh, to hold his hands and be held himself by someone that cared about him in a way no one else did. But that was the thing: it wouldn't be Ghost. It would be another face, and Harry did not want someone else's hands on his body, someone else's lips pressing against his own. He wanted to love Ghost, for who he was. Whether he looked like the hot Hufflepuff boy or he look liked…well, Neville (Though to be fair, puberty had been kind to Neville and Harry on occasion found himself unintentionally peering over Neville's way whenever the boy did change in their room)

After arguing with himself for a further minute, Harry decided on an answer. He wrote back. 'Let's do it.'"

The words vanished. Immediately, he felt his heart beat harder in his chest. Earlier that same day the butterflies he felt had turned into bats and now those bats had become Pixies – wreaking havoc in his stomach. Yet his smile did not falter. He'd made his decision.

' _Really?'_ Ghost replied almost instantly. Harry wondered if Ghost had assumed Harry would turn him down.

He scribbled back his answer. ' _Sure, why not?'_ He sat upright and had to throw the covers away from his legs. When he had climbed into bed it had been warm and cosy, but now he felt a bead of sweat on his brow. Was it the nerves?

' _Excellent,'_ Ghost responded.

' _But when and where?'_ Harry questioned. It took a moment for Ghost to reply, so Harry hopped out of bed and crossed to the closest window. He set the diary down on the cold, stone built in bench and opened the latch. It was getting hot in his room. He was tempted to take off his boxers but he knew how that would end.

Ghost finally replied and Harry snatched the diary back up. ' _The Astronomy tower. I like to go there sometimes, and let's meet late. Around 12._ ' His thoughts flew to the Astronomy tower and how it looked in his mind's eye. The tallest tower in Hogwarts, where not many people venture off too unless they were in Professor Sinistra's Astronomy classes. Harry also guessed Ghost had chosen that late at night because all classes would be over by then and all students – whom followed the rules – would be in bed. They'd be alone.

' _Perfect._ ' Harry beamed as he wrote the word. It really was. He would still be terrified of course but he would not have to worry about running into someone. It would work out perfectly, but Harry thought back to Polyjuice potion. And a question rushed to the front of his mind and dashed his dreams.

' _Wait, it takes a month to brew Polyjuice potion? I don't want to wait another month, Ghost._ '

' _We don't have to. I started making the potion before we even started talking. I was going to use it to become Madam Pince and sneak into the Restricted Section of the library but I'd much prefer to use it to meet you_.'

' _As Madam Pince?_ ' He joked. His panic had settled.

' _You're funny, Harry._ ' Harry could detect the sarcasm in the words easily. Before Harry could write a single word, another message came through. ' _I'm going to go. I need to collect the hair and prepare myself for tonight._ ' Whatever that meant?

' _I will see you tonight, then._ ' Harry wrote back.

' _It's a date._ ' Ghost added a winking face doodle along with his response and Harry fluttered inside. A date? He'd never really gone on a date before. He'd asked Cho Chang to the Yule Ball in their fourth year but that didn't count – he ended up going with Pavarti Patil anyway, whom he hadn't even liked when he thought he liked girls. Then there was…Ginny. Harry cared about Ginny, deeply, and although he thought her to have grown into a beautiful girl he could come to think of her in a romantic nature, let alone a sexual one. She loved Harry, she had since she had first met him when he was just eleven years old, and he loved her too but not in the same way. He would forever be sorry for that.

But this…this was different. Ghost was different. It was true that their first date was not what one would call conventional. They weren't going to the cinema or having dinner in some fancy restaurant or going for long, romantic walks in the park. But he was meeting someone he felt he needed in his life, and that was enough.

' _A date._ ' He wrote back.

Harry slid the diary beneath his pillow and lay his head against the softness. He wondered if the day would come when he would wake up in a bed next to Ghost. Naked, their bodies pressed together, warm and sleeping in one another's arms. Was that too much to ask? No. It wasn't. He may have been the chosen one, he may not have a perfect life and he may not live to see the end of the year. But he was not going to die without meeting Ghost.

LINE

Harry lay in that bed for another hour yet could not will himself to sleep. His eagerness to see the day through kept him alert and giddy with anticipation. In the end, he decided he needed something to distract his thoughts and begrudgingly forced himself out of bed to get dressed, to do something with his time – even if that meant returning to classes.

He dressed into his clothes and robes then went to close the window. The room was cool enough now and he knew the others – Ron specifically – would complain if the room was freezing when it came time to sleep. Just as he closed the latch, he heard an owl screech above, a brown barn owl. He'd heard no word from the order as of yet, and was eagerly awaiting Hedwig's return. He wondered if it was a security thing, just knowing she was safe in the Owlery made his day a little better. But when she was out there in the world, carrying important information in her talons, she was a target for any one of Voldemort's followers. If someone so much as recognized her in the sky, she would stand no chance.

He tried to push away negative thoughts, as the idea of anything happening to her hurt his chest. He had to focus on the night ahead of him and what it might entail. He went to Madam Pomfrey, although most of his discomfort had gone – or shifted in nature, at least – she gave him a little something to settle his stomach anyway.

By the time he left the hospital wing, he had already missed Defence Against the Dark Arts, which cheered him up as he would not have to face Snape at all that day, but it did mean he had Charms with Flitwick. He could get through an hour and then be free to prepare himself for Ghost. He reunited with Hermione whom had seemingly forgiven him for throwing away the diary, and instead had resorted to complaining about some blonde girl that was apparently following she and Ron around, for whatever reason. They spent the lesson revising non-verbal spells, most of which Harry had already mastered. Non-verbal spells were handy in a duel. The time it takes to say a spell could be the difference between life and death.

Ron had said Harry was being more morbid than usual when he explained this to him, but Harry knew it to be true. He went to dinner that night and finally eat a full meal. The concoction madam Pomfrey had given him had settled not only his stomach but his nerves also, but resulted in his hunger. He stuffed his face just as Ron did, and Hermione rolled her eyes at the two of them.

"Looks like someone's feeling better." She said, "Miraculous recovery?" She starred across at him accusingly. She thought he'd lied about being unwell just to evade Snape's class. It was something he would do, but it hadn't been the case. He just shrugged.

"I did as you said and went to Madam Pomfrey." He explained, scoffing down succulent chicken breast. Hermione hadn't been too pleased of Harry's indecisions, but did not bother to say. Instead of listening to anything else, he finished his dinner, had seconds, then headed out of the hall. He was thankful that Charm's had been the only class he had to attend that afternoon. It meant he had hours spare to complete his homework and assignments, head to the Owlery to see if Hedwig had returned, find a change of clothes, shower and even nap if he could. He spent the afternoon doing just that. By the time he woke from his nap, it was almost ten o'clock. He had an hour to get ready.

Most of the boys were already sock on, except for Neville who was reading by Wand-light and Ron who was rushing to finish an assignment due in first period the next day. Harry had hoped they would all be asleep by this point, but he would have to come up with a good enough excuse for Ron.

"Where you off?" Ron whispered when Harry made his way to his trunk. To the pile of clothes he'd laid out neatly within for tonight.

"I need to go out for a little bit, get some alone time." A stupid excuse, but he didn't care. He pulled out the clothes; earlier that day he had opened his trunk and his wardrobe and wondered what to wear. What would someone wear to go off for a secret meeting with their gay crush? He settled on his favourite pair of jeans, scuffed as they were, a pair of tennis shoes and his trusty blue T-shirt. Nothing stylish or particularly date worthy. But he had nothing formal but official robes and white shirts he wore beneath his uniform, so the T-shirt would have to do. He picked them up, along with fresh boxer, socks and his toiletries and packed them into a rucksack along with something else he would need.

"It's past curfew." Neville butted in.

"So?" He shrugged. Neville just turned back to his book.

"You want me to come with ya?" Ron offered but Harry shook his head straight away. "Are you sure?" Ron continued. He probably wanted Harry to say yes just to get out of completing the homework. "I'm going to the mirror of Erised, Ron," Harry lied. Ron paused, then just nodded to Harry. No more said. He knew that Harry went to visit the mirror when he was feeling particularly down, and when he wanted to see his parents faces. Ron wouldn't intrude on that.

Harry told them he would be back in a while, then headed out of Gryffindor tower and down to the bathrooms. He spelled the bathroom door shut and cast ' _Muffliato_ ' so no Prefects patrolling the halls would overhear the shower and come looking for answers. After he'd washed himself very thoroughly, he changed into the clothes he brought with him and tried to tame his hair yet again. He brushed his teeth twice and when he had nothing else to put it off, he headed to meet Ghost.

He was out past curfew, meaning that if he was spotted by a Professor or Prefect then he would be sent back to his dorm and have fifteen points taken from his house. He'd already lost ten that afternoon by skipping Snape's class. (Of course, Snape had followed up on Harry's disappearance and threatened to take away fifteen points unless Harry had a viable excuse. He'd informed the professor of his illness and he had Madam Pomfrey's word to validate it. So, Snape had settled for taking ten points for his casual shoes and another five for his untucked shirt. Harry had only been lucky Snape had not overheard him cursing as he walked away.) If Harry was caught, that would be thirty points taken that day and he had only three classes to begin with.

If McGonagall didn't scold him for it, Hermione surely would.

Luckily, he had remembered his Dad's old cloak and made his way undetectably throughout the halls of Hogwarts. He took the robe off only when he was ascending the Astronomy Tower's spiralling stairwell, and tucked it into the rucksack he'd brought with him. When Harry reached the top of the stairwell, he heard footsteps far below. Someone was following him. He felt a rush of both excitement and panic; he was suddenly feeling ambivalent that the moment was upon him. He missed the last couple of steps and hurried to the highest floor of the tower. The Astronomy tower was the tallest in all of Hogwarts, and being so high up made Harry feel a little uneasy. Especially since the roof above their heads was held up only by several stone pillars and the iron railings between them were hardly any comfort at all.

The idea of anyone falling from such a height terrified him. Almost as much as the steady but sure footsteps, getting closer with each passing second.

He sucked in a deep breath of cold air and held it in his lungs before letting go. He had to make sure he looked…well, cute. He ran his hands through his tangled black hair and tried to sweep it into some kind of style. He puffed out a breath into his palm and smelt it to test his breath – just in case. How awful it would be if Ghost tried to kiss him and he ruined it by having bad breath. The footsteps got closer, his heartbeat got faster, and then the boy was there and Harry turned.

The boy that followed him into the tower was not what Harry had been expecting. In fact, he was the total opposite. Harry had secretly hoped for a dark-haired boy, with hair not as black as his but maybe brown, chocolatey, with warm eyes of a similar colour. With tan skin and pearly white teeth and a beautiful smile and dimples and – the list went on. The boy before him had none of these feats. He was blonde, with hair so fair it could have been white, and eyes dishwater grey. He had sickly pale skin that looked almost like chalk; the coal black suit he wore over it did little to help colour his dead complexion. Harry had known the face instantly.

He stood before Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing here?" Harry had not intended to snarl. A natural reaction to see Draco's face, he supposed. He hoped Draco would leave soon. He did not want his first meeting with his secret, gay crush to be in the same room as one of his arch enemies.

"For your information, Potter, I have business here tonight." Draco sniggered, a smile on the edge of his lips. He tucked his hands into his blazer pocket and walked forward slowly.

"Yeah, well, so do I. I was here first, so shove off, Malfoy."

"Is this how you treat all your crushes? No wonder your single, Harry" For a single second Harry thought someone else was in the room, the voice that had replied had been lighter and with more amusement that Harry though Draco was capable off. But when he was sure they were alone, he spun back to the blonde-haired boy and gawked. Draco's smile was no longer smug and degrading, but honest and joyful and weird.

"Surprised to see this face? You're not alone." He beckoned to his face.

"G-Ghost?"

No. It couldn't be. He'd misheard him. There was absolutely no possible way on this earth that –

"Hiya, Cutie."

Harry almost stumbled backwards – which would have been deadly as he was sure he would have gone straight over the iron railing, and what a tragic first date that would have been. He gawked at Ghost before he turned around completely and rested a hand on the stone pillar.

"Harry?" He still sounded strange. Like Draco but so different at the same time. The world was spinning a little too fast. What was he doing? This was Ghost. This was the one person on the planet who not only understood his feelings but reciprocated them. "From your expression, I'm presuming you haven't opened the diary again before coming here."

Harry hadn't. He hadn't touched it since he'd said goodbye to ghost early that afternoon. He'd been to focused on meeting him now. Ghost laughed. Harry had not ever heard Draco laugh without mockery behind it. It was nice, and horrible at the same time. Mostly due to his inability to decide what he was feeling.

"Why are you, I mean –" Harry wanted to say so much but the words would not come.

"Draco Malfoy? I didn't intend on choosing this face. It was an accident, if you'll believe it. I wouldn't choose this face if it was the last one on the planet. Draco has a hot roommate, Terance Higgs?" He was asking if Harry had heard of him, the name sounded familiar but he could not remember a face. Harry shook his head. "Anyway, Terance and I have been flirting back and forth since our third year and he's kind of handsome now. I thought his face would be a nice one to use. I asked a friend to steal a hair from his robes, but turns out they plucked the hair from the wrong set of robes and…." He beckoned to his body.

"It was Draco's." Harry finished for him. Ghost nodded.

"I did try to warn you, but when you didn't reply to my message I had to assume you already left. This is weird for you, I know. It's weird for me too. This isn't how I wanted this night to go." He laughed and Harry found himself smiling. The silence went on forever. The only noise was their breathing and the creaking of floorboards as they walked absentmindedly around the tower. "So…." Ghost almost sang, "Here we are."

"Here we are." Harry echoed.

Ghost then stopped circling him and moved forward slowly. He traced cold fingertips along Harry's arm. "Do you have an obsession with this T-shirt? I see you wearing it all the time on the weekends." Harry chuckled and crossed his arms.

"Yeah. It was one my cousins, Dudley, got for his twelfth birthday. He didn't like it, didn't even try it on, so my aunt and uncle gave it to me. Three sizes too big but I grew into it. I guess I like it."

"I like Blue. It suits you." Ghost said. His fingers traced higher, tugging on Harry's collar ever so slightly. He swallowed loudly and turned towards the balcony. Harry stood there for a second, the breeze so powerful up here it blew his hair back and ruffled his shirt. Ghost joined him a single second later, resting against the railing without a care in the world. They overlooked Hogwarts together, scanning their eyes of the many rooftops and adjoining towers, the Forbidden Forest stretching on for miles across from the Black lake. It was so quiet.

"Will you tell me your name?" Harry wondered aloud, knowing already what Ghost's answer would be.

"I can't. Not yet. I tell you my name, you ask Granger if she's heard of me and she'll figure out who I am in no time. I'm not ready for that yet." He knew Harry, and Hermione, well it would seem. That was exactly what he would have done. "I like my name now anyway. Ghost." He said. He beamed at the thought. "It's strange, and different. But I'm so used to hearing you call me Ghost it'd be weird to have you call me by any other name."

"Fine." Harry sighed. "But you know my name."

"Everyone knows your name!" Ghost laughed, leaning back against the pillar. "There's not a person in our world who doesn't." Harry had heard this many times over, it always made him feel uncomfortable. He just shrugged, not sure what to say. It was Ghost who spoke again. "You're so cute." This compliment made him blush. He'd never get used to someone calling him cute, and if this wasn't enough to make his heart flutter, what ghost said next certainly did.

"Can I kiss you?"

Harry spun to face him, but Ghost just stood there as still as a statue, a question in his eyes Harry didn't have the answer to.

"Um…" Was all he could get out. He was panicking again, getting too flustered and scared to even think straight. He was finally with Ghost and Ghost wanted to kiss him. There was nothing wrong with that, he wanted that, but he was overcome with so much fear and confusion the world made very little sense. This was Ghost but it wasn't. It was Draco and it wasn't. He wanted to kiss him more than he had ever wanted to kiss anyone and at the same time, these were the lips of his enemy. A death Eater. But not really.

He wanted to shake his head and nod at the same time. Ghost's hands tugged on the hem of Harry's T-shirt, pulling him closer. "I can't." Harry said. Ghost was close to him, frighteningly close and though he wanted nothing more than to cross the space between them, he forced himself to turn away. He gripped the iron railing tight enough to turn his knuckles white. This would have been so much easier if it was someone else, anybody else.

"Harry. This isn't something we should be afraid of." The sentence almost made him laugh. It wasn't the kiss that scared him, it was the face he was kissing. "I'm not afraid."

Harry heard Ghost's footsteps moments before he felt his arms on his shoulders. Ghost spun Harry around at the balcony's edge and crashed his lips suddenly against his own.

He spared himself only a moment of surprise, before the realization hit that this was his first time kissing another boy – and he would not spend the entirety of it panicking. He let go of all his worries and felt the tension roll off him in waves. Ghost's hands were cold when he cupped Harry's burning cheeks and the simple touch had sent sparks up Harry's spine and made him shiver but it had little to do with the temperature.

Harry let his own hands move freely and he slid them up and over Ghost's shoulders, and around his thin neck. His fingertips brushed through his fair hair, pulling him even closer. Harry felt Ghost's hands slide up beneath the fabric of his T–Shirt, strikingly cold against his warm skin but he could not bear the thought of Ghost pulling away. Ghost suddenly became much more aware, more eager and he took Harry effortlessly back a couple of steps until the two were up against one of the pillars; his kiss left Harry's swollen lips and traced along his jaw and nipped at his neck.

Blood rushed to Harry's head – among other places – but he felt lighter than he had all night. It was only when Ghost breathed Harry's name, hot against his cheek, in the voice of Draco Malfoy that Harry snapped back to reality and remembered whose lips these were. The boy behind the face was Ghost. Beautiful, sexy, caring Ghost. But this face belonged to someone who couldn't be any more the opposite. If this was not Ghost's face, then did this even make this their kiss?

Harry's face scrunched up uncontrollably and he found himself pushing himself away. He gasped for air the moment Ghost's lips left his own, and he spun around entirely and leaned against one of the pillar with an arm resting over his head. He could only take small, quivering breaths.

Ghost gasped immediately. "Harry, I'm sorry. I – I just thought you wanted to – I didn't mean to make – I'm sorry?"

He thought about his response for the longest time.

"I can't do this, Ghost, I can't kiss him knowing it's not you. Not really you. I want to stay in the closet as much as you do but this is too far. I don't want to fall in love with a face that's not yours." And with that, Harry left Ghost in the Astronomy tower and hurried his way back to the castle below.

He did not wipe away his tears until he got back to his room.

LINE

Asher's Note:

Hello Everyone! I am pleased to see people are reading and enjoying this story! I said before, it's a side story I work on when I need and escape back to the world of Harry Potter. I don't have a regular updating schedule, but I will try to post soon! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, Ghost's plan, the big moment and the ending.

Thanks for reading, please review, bye!

LINE

Responding to your reviews:

Morrm8894: Thanks for reviewing! I see what you mean now. Maybe that will happen? We will see in the future exactly how they feel.

Guest #1: Thank you so much, it means a lot. I hope to update soon and hope you enjoy.

The Night Goddess: You can call me sweetheart all you like. I'm English also and I am called it daily by my Grandmother. Thank you for what you said, that's very sweet! I am a fan of Twilight. I mean, Stephanie's writing skills are not great, nor is the story, but it (Along with HP) Got me into reading and writing so it has a soft spot in my heart. I understand what you mean, but still, thank you so much.

Katrina: Thank you! Hope you enjoyed!

FigsvsNewton: Here you go! Ha-ha.

FandomsTrashSenpai: Thank you so much, I'm glad you are enjoying. I do apologise for the long wait but as I said, this story does not have an uploading schedule. I will try to post soon though! Thanks!

~Asher~


	4. Chapter 4

~Chapter Four~

* * *

The other boys were fast asleep by the time Harry crept back into his bedroom. He had heard them snoring from down the hall. It was pitch black in their room, the moonlight shining through the window was enough to guide him to his bed without tripping over someone's trousers. He was grateful for the darkness, it meant if anyone did wake up they would not see the tears on his cheeks. He licked his dry lips and could taste them.

He hated crying. He hated how much he cried. It made him feel weak when he had to be strong. The entire wizarding world was literally depending on it. He heard a grumble and spun to see Ron bolt upright in bed, wand drawn with the tip facing Harry. It took him a moment to realize who was standing at the foot of his bed and he let out a heavy breath he'd been holding and dropped his wand to his sheets.

"Sorry," Ron grumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "You alright, mate?" For a second Harry's heart jumped and he thought Ron may have seen the tears, but it clicked a second later that Ron had believed Harry had been to visit the mirror of Erised and why would he not cry at that? He shrugged.

"Fine, go back to sleep." Harry told him. Ron nodded understandingly and wished him a good night. Harry mumbled a response before stripping to his boxers and climbing beneath the crisp covers. He was surprised at how lightly Ron had slept and how he had jumped into action, prepared to duel, before he had even rubbed the sand out of his eyes. Ron had always been a deep, _deep,_ sleeper but they were in the middle of a war and Harry was the number one target. Ron was beginning to realize that at any moment, they could be under attack.

He lay his head flat against the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, yet he could not escape a second pair of eyes staring back into his own. Ghost's – No – Draco's.

This night had not gone to plan at all. He regretted every moment of it yet traced a numb finger across his lower lip, yearning for another pair of lips to take its place. Ghost. He balled his hands into fists, scrunching his sheets up angrily. He was so conflicted, so torn between his feelings for Ghost and his hatred for Draco Malfoy. He knew what he had done was probably hurting Ghost just as severely as what Ghost had done (albeit accidentally) was hurting him, yet he couldn't bring himself to touch the diary he'd slid back beneath the pillow. An hour passed, then two and soon it was almost three in the morning and Harry had a full day of classes scheduled for the morning and he knew he needed the sleep, but the diary seemed to as prominent as a brick beneath his pillow.

He took it out, slid it beneath his bed then lay back with an exasperated sigh. _That's better._ He thought, snuggling deeper beneath he covers. He decided in that moment he couldn't touch the diary again.

* * *

When Harry Potter woke the following morning, he found that he was alone in his bedroom. Strangely, the four other boys with whom he shared this section of the tower were nowhere to be found; beds empty and made, books and bags gone, and so were his glasses. What was even stranger was that he did not need them, everything was crystal clear – this was the first indication that he was still dreaming.

The second was that suddenly he was no longer alone in the room. There was someone behind him. The figure slid his thin arms beneath Harry's own and wrapped them securely around his waist, the tickling sensation making him shiver and smile. He knew that he should have spun to face the stranger, to yell at whoever had appeared and touched him but, he reminded himself, he was dreaming. If there was anyone he was going to _dream_ about it would be the one person he _wanted_ to touch him.

The gentle caress of a warm breath against his ear brought with it the scent of silver and aftershave. The familiar smell caused his knees to feel brittle and his head to drop to one side. This opened him up to a series of kisses that slowly moved along the nape of his neck, as soft and as gentle as whispers.

Giving in Harry spun to face him. He was as every bit as identical to the real thing.

"Ghost." Harry muttered, dragging his own fingers across his face. But it wasn't his face. As if Ghost had read Harry's mind he shook his head.

"Draco?" Harry tried again and Draco nodded, then kissed him. It was a cheap imitation of the real thing, but it made Harry swoon all the same. Even in his dreams he couldn't imagine the perfection that their first kiss had been, even if it had ended with tears and his running away. His body was firmer than he'd expected, warmer too. He'd always imagined Draco to be cold outside as well as in but he was comfortingly warm. Harry found himself wanting to bury his face in Draco's flat chest – which was now bare and surprisingly covered in tuffs of golden hair – and breathe him in.

He could feel himself growing harder, feel Draco through his ironed pants. He wanted this, he wanted to tear them off and have nothing between them but their skin.

"Harry," Draco's voice bounced off the walls of the tower and echoed through the entire castle. His hair wasn't covering his face, hindering his looks. It was swept back and styled. Harry found himself conflicted on how handsome he looked.

"Harry…" He said his name again, but it sounded clouded, faded as if being yelled through a wall. Then the world around him begun to thin, and Draco slipped through his arms, and his fantasy had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

* * *

He woke with his name in his mouth but fought the urge to say it aloud. Harry knew he was no longer dreaming as the world around him was a mass of red and gold and brown blurs blending into one another until he reached for his glasses and the world sharpened to take shape. He spun over and found Ron still fast asleep in the bed beside his own – as were the other boys.

He blew out a breath he'd been holding and sat upright in bed, kicking away the stuffy cover to cool his bare legs. Beads of sweat clung to his shaggy hair until he ran a shaky hand through it and brushed his fringe aside. It was uncomfortably hot in the tower; his limbs felt stiff and his skin waxy, so he placed his feet on the cold floorboards and went to stand to open the window but shot back down when he realized that he was still showing.

He crossed his legs atop his mattress and forced both arms over his crotch to hide his bulge from the other boys – he knew they were asleep but he wanted to be cautious, just in case. He knew they'd mock him for it. It wasn't as if he hadn't been in their place before when one of the boys hopped out of bed full of morning glory, and in the past Harry would have made jokes about size and teased whomever it was right alongside the others. It was what they did. They were teenage boys after all and teenage boys found something as uncontrollable as an erection understandably hilarious.

He couldn't help it either. Draco – No, Ghost or whoever that was – had touched him in ways no one else had. Who could blame him for getting excited?

When his thoughts drifted from the dream and he was sure it was safe to stand up, he opened the window and was hit with a blast of refreshing cool air. He crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, not caring whether the cold would wake the other boys or not. From the clock on the far wall it was almost dawn anyway. They'd have to get up soon.

But he could have another fifteen minutes by Ghost's side if he tried.

* * *

Harry did not read the message Ghost had surely left for him when he woke later that same morning. In fact, Harry chose not to touch the diary at all that day. His first thought when he woke – well, after he was positive he _had_ woken this time – was that perhaps a day without Ghost would do him some good. He knew that he needed to clear his head before deciding what to do with the overwhelming storm of emotion he felt. It was better for both boys that way.

Still, he felt the familiar impulse to reach for the diary beneath his pillow and it pained him to leave it be; fortunately, he had a full day of classes ahead of him and for the first time in a long time, he was grateful for it. Worrying over assignments and overdue homework was by far easier than worrying over what to do with Ghost. It was funny, before he would need a distraction from Voldemort and the impending war but now what kept him up at night was the thought of his teenage crush.

The dream had left him…. hot. So, he decided to shower again before classes begun. Like the day before, he gathered his clothes and his toiletries and made his way to the same bathroom only this time there was no stark-naked chocolate hunk to spy on. Why couldn't life be like in the movies? Both the normal and adult? Two strangers catch eyes from across the room, bump into one another and fall helplessly in love. Then they go home and fuck like professionals?

He showered as quickly but as thoroughly as he could and left the bathroom smelling of lemons and soap. As it turned out, he'd been showering longer than he thought as most of his friends and other students were already finishing up their breakfast and heading off to their first class.

"Where've you been?" Hermione pondered, scowling at his tangle of still wet hair.

"Went for a quick dip in the lake." He said as he reached for the nearest tray of toast, smothered in melted butter.

She rolled her eyes. "Did you sleep in again?" She asked with an exasperated sigh as if it were something he did often, which it wasn't.

"Nah," Ron grumbled, food in his mouth as always, "He was up before the lot of us."

Hermione gave Harry another look, except this time it was not accusing or displeased but instead full of worry. "The nightmares again?" Her voice was full of concern.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "Hey, did you do Snape's homework?" He changed the subject just so she wouldn't go on. Hermione – after a long argument – begrudgingly handed over her homework for Harry (and Ron, whom also hadn't done the homework) to copy and write up their own quick drafts. Harry had already written most of the homework a few days ago, but he would add this last little bit. It wouldn't be exceptional but Snape would only complain a little. Though he told the others that he was fine, they still seemed to be able to tell something was the matter with Harry. He tried to act his ordinary self but apparently, there was a 'glum' air to him. Ron let it go once Harry told him he was fine but Hermione was Hermione and she would not let it drop. She even dragged Ginny into it just so she would have someone to back her up.

He confessed to telling them he'd left his dorm the night before but told them both the same lie he'd told Ron: that he visited the mirror of Erised. He felt somewhat guilty at using the mirror and the image of his dead parents as a way of avoiding their questions but he knew what his friends were like. It came from a place of love but sometimes they could get on his nerves for caring too much. He kept his head down, his eyes on the plate of food set before him just so they could not detect the lie in his eye but it was too late. He knew Ginny had spotted it.

She gave him a look to say ' _I know you're lying but I'm not going to say anything if you don't want me to._ ' He nodded a thank you to her over Hermione's shoulder and she went back to her breakfast.

He had been right. Having a full day of classes was the perfect distraction from Ghost. He was handed eight new assignments to be completed within the following week and they were all to reach exceeding–expectations standards or else would only have to do them again. Hermione had not been too flustered by the new homework; in fact, by lunch she had written out a timetable of when she would have time to write them and was pleased she would have two full days to – not relax, as Harry would have done – but reread and perfect them. She was a strange girl, Hermione, but he would not change her one bit. Without her brains, he and Ron would have died their first year and Voldemort would have taken over the entire wizarding community by now.

Ron on the other hand, had panicked at thought of _one_ new assignment let alone eight. His cheeks had burned and blotched with colour, sweat damped his brow and his hair was just a mess as Harry's. Harry had offered to help Ron with his work – and by help he meant Ron could copy his homework when Harry finished his own – but both boys knew it would be a miracle for even Harry to complete them by the deadline. Hermione, being the kind, light-hearted soul she was then offered to spend her two free days helping Ron catch up. To this, he thanked her endlessly, calling her the most amazing woman in the world. (At this, Hermione was the one to blush.)

Harry was not the only one with a secret. Hermione had one too. She was head over heels in love with Ron but Harry's best friend hadn't the foggiest. He first realized it when Ron had scored his first goal at their Quidditch Game and Lavender Brown had launched herself at Ron and begun snogging him savagely. He'd seen the way Hermione had looked at him, then at her and fled the tower. They hadn't spoken about her feelings aloud but Harry had made it clear that if she ever wanted to, he would be there for her. For a moment, he wondered if that was a gay thing? You always see in movies and Tv Shows there is always 'The Gay Best-Friend' Was that what he was? He just thought he and Hermione were best friends, thus was the reason he cared deeply for her and would be there for her, and that it had nothing to do with him being gay, did it?

This was one of the many thoughts and questions that had popped into his mind after he realized he was gay. He wished he had someone to talk to about this stuff, someone to ask questions and not have to worry about the complicated stuff. Then Ghost had come along and had been that person. Still, he felt as if Ghost didn't count. An imaginary friend, in a way. He so desperately wanted to tell his friends, but at the same time would not dream of doing such a stupid thing.

Anyway, Hermione was madly in love with Ron but Ron being blind sighted by his love for Lavender (or more specifically her chest) failed to see the way Hermione looked at him. Which was why in moments such as this when Hermione offered to help him and he would thank and compliment her, Harry felt a bittersweet ache for the two of them. It made Hermione smile but in a sad way.

"Where're you going?" Hermione wondered when the three of them walked through a tunnel towards the library where they planned to get a head start on their assignments and studying. Ron had stopped at the archway.

"Uh, Lav wants me to meet her before dinner." Ron explained.

"I offered to help you and you want to run off to snog Lavender?" She was not upset that he had blown off her help, she was upset he'd blown off _her._

"She's having a hard day, it' the anniversary of her first toad's death or something like that." He shrugged, not sympathetic to the dead toad at all. "I'll catch up with you at dinner." He said before he turned, tucked his hands into his robe pockets and headed back the way they had come. Hermione's hands were balled into fists, her mouth a fine line. Harry knew her – knew girls – well enough to just stand by and stay quiet. Hermione gave a him a look and he just shrugged as well before she stormed off towards the library. He followed in pursuit.

* * *

The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Harry stepped through. The Gryffindor common room was a cosy round room full of squashy armchairs, round tables and a grand fireplace with a mantle adorned with a famous portrait of a golden lion that had been there for centuries. He looked around to find the tower practically empty, much to his joy, except for a few first years sprawled out across the rug in their pyjamas, scribbling desperately on parchment, presumably doing their homework.

He looked over and smiled at them; then they glanced over their shoulders and beamed up at him. "Hiya, Harry!" They called. He smiled and said a quiet hello before heading up the spiralling stone stairwell too his room. In all honestly, he was a little disappointed. He'd hoped he'd left dinner early enough to get the common room to himself but no such luck. He hadn't been in the mood to make painful Smalltalk and pleasant hello's. He wanted to strip and let loose. He could do that in his room but he felt as if he were spending enough time curled up in bed as it is, he wanted to be in the common room, by the warm fire, surrounded by scarlet tapestries depicting witches and wizards and animals both mortal and magical.

Also, he wanted to avoid being too close to the diary. If he were in the common room then he would be free to relax without the urge to reach beneath his pillow and grab it, but as he ascended the stone stairwell leading to the dormitories, he knew that he would have to read the diary sooner or later. Perhaps the time had come for him to finally read what Ghost had written.

He shut the door behind him with a bang and kicked off his shoes, snatched away his robes and untucked his white shirt. He collapsed onto the bed and listened to the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. He was being silly. Ghost wouldn't be able to tell when Harry read whatever message awaited him, so why not read it now? He reached beneath his pillow, the diary was still warm to the touch. He ran his palm across the velvety cover before flipped open the book to the last page he'd bookmarked to read what Ghost had wrote him.

' _Harry? Are you there?_

 _I know I shouldn't have done that, I just couldn't help myself. Please?_

 _I'm just going to write out what I need to say and you'll see this when you're ready. Harry, I hope you don't go away. I don't want to go back to the time when we weren't in each other's lives. I remember I used to see you, I used to watch you and your friends in the great hall, sitting together in the library, laughing in classes and making your way down to Hagrid's together. I remember wanting to join you, to run by your side and talk to you. I was miserable. I've always been miserable until I met you. Until I found you. I know I shouldn't have kissed you, you weren't ready and I probably made it so much more awkward with it not being my face and it being Draco's. But I finally had you in my arms and I couldn't stop myself. I made a mistake but all I can do is apologise. I'm sorry, Harry. I hope you give me – give us – a second chance._

 _Love Ghost'_

Love Ghost? The way he'd ended the letter made his heart flutter and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

The diary slipped between his fingers and he dropped his head to his pillow and he let out a loud groan. He was so conflicted, so annoyed with himself and with Ghost. He knew he and Ghost cared about one another deeply, beyond the point of a simple crush, but to see that word written down on paper and directed towards him made him tingle in ways he didn't know he could. The words together made Harry's insecurities seem pointless to him now, childish almost. It had only been a kiss, after all.

He'd been silly to run, he'd been stupid to turn Ghost away. Ghost liked him and Harry liked Ghost. Who cared if anyone else knew? Harry wanted this boy in his life and he wasn't going to turn away the only person to know his secret and share his feelings in return.

' _I miss you.'_ Harry wrote back. ' _I'm sorry too. Can we forget this ever happened? Go back to the way we used to be.'_

It was another half an hour before he glanced over from the window and saw the words rise to the surface. _'Of course, cutie, I missed you too. I'm so sorry for what I did.'_

' _Don't be, that kiss was amazing. I never thought it would feel so good.'_ Harry wrote back, then he touched his lower lip again.

' _If my kisses are that good, just you wait until I get into your pants.' Ghost_ then doodled another winking face and Harry burst into laughter.

* * *

Ghost and he had been talking for hours, and Harry only realized this when he heard two familiar voices arguing from the common room. He looked up at his clock and it was late. He changed into jogging bottoms and a fresh T-shirt before he set down the diary then made his way out to the balcony; Ron and Hermione were stood together in the common room, muttering beneath their breath.

"What's the matter with you two?" Harry asked as he made his way over.

"Ronald here wants me to help him with assignments now it's convenient for _him_."

"How many times do I have to say it? It's the anniversary of Lavender's first toad's death!"

"Yeah, Hermione." Harry smirked, prodding her in the arm. "Have some sympathy for the poor girl's dead toad."

"Oh, how rude of me!" She exclaimed, throwing up her arms and laughing. "I'll be sure to send an owl with my condolences!"

She stormed off across the room towards the table in the corner. Ron rolled his eyes. "You know she'll forgive you eventually, just keep apologising." Harry whispered to Ron. "You know she can't turn down homework."

"I heard that!" Hermione snarled. Harry just laughed and headed for the stairwell. "Aren't you going to get a start on yours?" Hermione asked. The way she said it indicated that he _ought_ to be getting a start on his. After making up with Ghost, homework was the last thing on his mind. A brilliant thought came to mind.

"No, actually, I've got some free classes tomorrow, I'll start then. I didn't get much sleep last night, gonna try sleep early tonight." He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, yawning his words. "Goodnight," He told them, disappearing back up the stairs before she could argue back. He climbed back into bed and continued talking to Ghost. They talked well into the night and by the time Harry checked his watch again, most students were asleep – including Ron and his other roommates – and Harry was up late yet again. He'd told Ron that he'd lied to Hermione just to get out of doing homework; Ron had congratulated him on quick thinking but at least Hermione had helped him complete and entire assignment that evening. Just like homework, Hermione could never turn him away.

At some point their conversation had drifted to magical creatures and Ghost had said he wasn't a huge fan. He'd apparently been injured a few years back by one but when the message came through, it was not an explanation but something else entirely.

'Actually, _can we talk soon? I've had a pretty stressful day myself and want to have a nice bath.'_

He wrote his response. _'Yeah, okay. Go relax. Just don't fall asleep in the tub.'_ He joked.

' _Yeah right. Who can sleep with Moaning Myrtle down the hall.'_

" _I know, right."_ Harry replied. _'Talk soon."_

' _Talk soon, cutie,'_

Then Ghost was gone. Harry set down the diary and leaned back, but kept his head uncomfortably against the wooden headboard. He didn't want to fall asleep without saying goodnight to Ghost. He hoped when he did sleep he would dream of him, preferably in the bathtub. How could anyone expect Harry not to imagine Ghost naked when he said what he said. Harry imagined lots of bubbles, a steamy room, a perky bum.

Then it hit him. What Ghost had just said. _'With moaning Myrtle down the hall.'_ Ghost hadn't realized what he'd done but – he'd just told Harry exactly where he was going to be. Not Ghost wearing Polyjuice potion, actual Ghost. He was going to be in the boys' lavatory down the hall from the girl's lavatory on the first floor. He was going there now.

Harry dropped the diary onto his covers and twisted until he was sat upright, his bare feet on the cold floorboards. He ran a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide, lost and confused on what to do with this information. As he pulled back on some jogging bottoms and slipped his bare feet into some old trainers, he tried and failed to convince himself to go back to bed. Ghost wouldn't want this. He knew Ghost didn't want Harry to know who he was, not yet at least but Harry was a selfish guy sometimes. He knew he should have ignored it, let Ghost have his bath, and go back to bed – but he couldn't.

He threw his dad's invisibility cloak over his head and ran from the room, down the stairwell, through the portrait in the wall and down the grand staircase. He reached the first floor, barged through the door and closed it behind him. Once he was certain the corridor was empty, he pulled off his cloak and threw it over his arm. Lifting his wand, he whispered the word " _Lumos_." and the tip lit up with starlight.

He set off running. He sprinted down the corridor until he passed the girls lavatory – he caught myrtle moaning – then made his way to the boys. " _Nox_ ," Harry flicked his wand and was plunged into grey darkness again. He tried the handle and found the room open, he kept outside but pointed the tip through the crack. " _Homenum Revelio_." He felt nothing, sensed no response form the spell.

Good. Ghost wasn't there yet.

Harry ducked inside and made his way to the cubicles. He spotted the large bathtub the size of a pool. The idea that Ghost would be there soon frightened and excited him. Once inside the cubicle, he pulled the cloak out, threw it over himself and sat on the toilet lid. He brought his feet up to his chin just so his trainers wouldn't poke out. He was breathing heavily; he'd sprinted faster than he had in a long time just to get here before Ghost and now he could barely breathe. His breath fogged up his glasses and he used the cloak to rub them clean.

Harry couldn't believe where he was, what he was doing. He'd only jut made up with Ghost and what he was doing could compromise their friendship – their relationship – beyond repair. He was initially outing Ghost, even if it was to himself and he knew he would hate to be in Ghost's position.

Unfortunately for Harry, by the time he realized that this wasn't the best way to find out who Ghost was, the door opened and someone walked in.

He caught his breath.

Only now did he remember that other students knew the human-presence-revealing spell and if they used it he would be discovered. Luckily, whomever it was walked into the bathroom without muttering a single word and a second later Harry heard the water running.

It was Ghost.

Harry felt his heart pounding in his chest and he wondered if Ghost could hear it too. Had it always been so loud? Ghost started to hum. Harry smiled, not recognizing the tune but that didn't matter to him. Ghost sounded nice, even if it was humming. He heard the ruffle of fabric, clothes being dropped to the floor. He imagined him dropping his trousers, his boxers, then striding naked and proud into the tub.

He heard the splash as Ghost stepped into the water, then a sigh, a sound of relief.

Harry hated himself for what he was about to do.

Harry eased open the cubicle door and stepped out.

The cloak covered him, Ghost hadn't heard the squeaky hinges.

At first Harry could see someone beneath the bubbly water but could only make out ivory skin. He stepped closer. He glanced down at the clothes and the robes, the black boxers and the emerald-lined robes of a Slytherin. He gulped and took another step. The figure beneath the water ran their bony fingers through their longish white blonde hair. Harry took yet another step. Ghost broke the surface of the water and threw his head back, taking in two full lungs of hot, steamy, scented air. Harry saw him from behind and took in how thin Ghost was, how his pasty skin was tight; he could see Ghost's spine and his ribs.

He took another step.

And then Ghost turned around and Harry gasped.

Ghost heard the sound, his soft features hardened, he reached for his wand at the side of the tub and lifted it, aiming at where Harry stood.

"Who's there?" He growled.

Harry froze, unable to speak, unable to move.

"Show yourself!" He snapped in that sharp voice.

Harry found the strength to do one thing: he dropped the cloak.

Ghost leapt back in the water, his wand dropped to the tiles by the side of the tub with a clatter. Ghost's eyes were wide with panic and horror.

"Harry." Ghost said, the word passing through his lips before he could stop himself. That word was all Harry needed to know that this was in fact Ghost.

He let out a shaky breath.

"Draco…"

* * *

Asher's Note:

Hello Everyone! My apologies for leaving it so long to update this story. Honestly, I've been busy at work and found it difficult to find inspiration for this chapter. I hope what I've written will suffice. I hope to see your thoughts and opinions and thank you to everyone who reviewed!

* * *

Responding to your reviews:

The Night Goddess: Hello back to you! Thank you very much, that's very sweet and it made my day when I read it. I hope you don't mind that Harry started to forgive Draco and what happened in this chapter – though the end of this chapter quite clearly demonstrates that it's not an easy road from here on out. Again, thank you so much and I am sorry for the wait!

CursedRaven: Love the name! I asked what you meant quite a while again referring to you saying you felt cheated on the last chapter. I'm going to post here what I explained to you just in case any others felt the same and would like an explanation. You explained you felt cheated as the build-up lead to a sad ending. I totally understand where you're coming from. It would have been so much easier to allow Harry and Ghost to just have an amazing first kiss and spend the rest of the night talking. Though I had to put myself in Harry's shoes and I thought about what I would do if I were him. He's in the closet, but someone out there knows the truth about him; this alone is enough to terrify any LGBTQ+ individual. The threat of being exposed when they are not ready. It' true Harry trusts Ghost but I suppose there is a fear in the back of his mind that this boy, whom is seemingly perfect to Harry in every way, will suddenly change and it turns out all his hopes are for nought. Ghost's fear of coming out, even to Harry, is another reason Harry is so worried. He feels If Ghost would just confess who he really is then he will be able tom accept it and the two can work this out. Does that make sense? In short, Harry still worries that Ghost may turn on him and out him as being gay when he is not ready and Ghost does not want to confess who he is to Harry and this only fuels his fear. It'll be explained in chapters to come. Also, so sorry for such a long reply!

Cadi-Pika1993: Interesting theory! I did once write a gay story with Dumbledore and Snape but I am not sure if it is still up! Lol.

Bookgirl111: I know I already explained Barry to you in a private message but I just wanted to explain again for anyone else who saw and wondered who the hell is Barry!? There is no Barry. In my own personal story, there is a character called Barry who is gay. When I wrote Chapter 3 It was very late and because I was so used to writing Barry, I did not notice that I called Harry by a different name! I am embarrassed and I hope it has not happened again in this one! (If so, please let me know!)

High-lady-feyre: Hello You! I'm not sure if I responded to your review in one of our many private messages but I'll reply here just in case! Thank you again for saying you enjoyed the pairing of Harry and Malfoy. I always loved them together too! I was proud of the doppel-diary idea! Thank you, lol. Of course, I know it's you! :D

Guest #1: Thank you so much, sorry for the wait!

Mysticalgems: Thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed! You're right, it did hurt Draco. We'll see if they can work it out in chapters to come, there is a lot the two of them need to discuss. Thank you so much for your sweet review, it made my day! :D

Umi87: Thank you so much! Sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy!

Damblucookies: Awesome name! Thank you, sorry for the long wait!

~Asher~


	5. Chapter 5

~Chapter Five~

* * *

"Draco…"

The word – if you can call it that at all – passed through Harry's dry lips in barely a whisper. Suddenly, everything made sense. He couldn't take his eyes off Draco, couldn't turn away no matter how hard he tried. He could not only still hear his heart beating, he could feel it. The steam from the hot water fogged up his glasses, but for the first time in a long time he was seeing clearly.

Draco gulped, his throat bobbed. "Harry," he repeated. Unsure of himself, of the boy standing at the edge of the tub with his hands balled into fists and his mouth pulled into a fine line. Ghost went to take a step forward but remembered he was naked and sank back into the cover of the bubbles. Harry didn't have a name for the expression on the blonde boy's face; shock, confusion, mortification? Pain?

"There never was a Ghost." Harry spoke aloud but not to Draco, not directly. He just needed to hear himself voice this painful realization. "It was you all along, wasn't it?" He didn't intend to sound so angry, so disgusted but he couldn't help it. His entire body had gone numb, except his heart. His heart burned. "There never was a Ghost. You never used Polyjuice Potion, did you?"

Draco didn't respond. Instead, he spoke with his eyes. Those stupid, grey, dishwater eyes. Harry hated them. "Let me explain-"

"Tell me the truth!" Harry yelled, suddenly uncaring if he was heard. His voice bounced off the stone and marble walls; Draco flinched at the harsh tone. Harry had never seen him exhibit so much emotion at once. He considered lifting his wand but could not bring himself to do it.

"No, I didn't use Polyjuice potion. I- I'm Ghost…It's me." A single tear escaped his eye and slid down his cheek. It looked silver in the moonlight shining in through the stained-glass window. Draco reached for the towel he'd dropped down by the side of the tub. Harry couldn't let him get out of that tub, he couldn't let him any closer. He couldn't hear another word.

Harry snatched up his dad's cloak and he ran.

"Harry, wait!" He heard Draco calling for him, then splashes as he hurried to get out of the water but by the time Draco had wrapped a towel around his waist Harry was hidden beneath his father's cloak and fleeing from the truth.

* * *

Harry was alone in the Gryffindor common room, pacing back and forth across the carpeted rug. He'd lit the never-ending supply of firewood in the hearth with his wand, if only to spell something. He didn't know what to do with himself, too many thoughts raced in his mind to form coherent sentences. He hadn't felt this lost in a long time.

He dropped down onto an armchair, pulled his knees up as he had in the cubicle and grabbed two fistfuls of hair.

Then he cried.

He cried for himself, for the version of him who'd existed only an hour ago, who'd believed he was not alone in this and had fallen in love, who'd been the unknowing victim of a cruel joke. But he also cried for Ghost, for the tanned boy in his visions with hair the same coffee colour as his eyes. With a welcoming smile and a warm hug. For the boy who'd told him stories and made him laugh when nothing else – no one else – could. For the boy he'd fallen in love with but who'd never existed.

He looked up and yanked off his glasses, using the hem of his T-shirt he wiped his eyes. He already had screwed up vison, crying didn't help. After a while, he considered just going back to bed and forgetting this night ever happened but he wouldn't be able to sleep even if he wanted to. He would have been up all night terrified over what was to come the following morning.

Everything was going to change now.

He didn't want to be here, be near Ron or any of his friends when it happened. Harry snuck back up to his room and ducked back inside. He lifted his wand and cast the sound dulling spell, meaning he wouldn't have to worry about waking the others as he ransacked his trunk and his drawers. He packed a rucksack with a set of fresh clothes, some books, his toiletries, the marauder's map and finally his cloak. Then he decided he would need the cloak so kept it out and tied it around his neck and over his head.

He looked back to Ron's bed and pictured his friend waking up and wondering where he was, wondering if he was alright. He didn't want to do what he was about to do, he didn't want to run away and leave everyone in a state of panic. But he also didn't want to be around them when word spread and the truth came out. He didn't want to see their shocked faces, hear their laughter. He had to go, even if it was for only one day.

Harry turned and he left.

* * *

The thoughts going through Harry's mind were not pleasant ones. In fact, they were downright terrifying. He was plagued by his imagination, cursed to watch scenarios play out in his head and each of them included some form of public embarrassment. He pictured Draco gathering his friends – anyone who would listen, really – and explaining how he'd discovered Harry Potter's deepest darkest secret. Then the word of Harry's homosexuality would spread like deadly disease from student to student and soon everyone in Hogwarts would know.

He lifted his wand and pointed it at the crumpled up remains of the daily prophet. " _Incendio_." He whispered. The paper burst into orange flames. It curled in on itself and blackened, the ash it made fell from it but was caught up in the spell, it spun in the air around the fire like tiny planets orbiting a sun. He held forward his palms, thankful for the warmth. This place was freezing no matter what he did. He'd closed the door and pulled the windows shut though it did little to help seen as though most of the glass had been broken through a long, long time ago.

He heard movement from the corner and held out his wand, but dropped it when a rat went skipping off through a hole in the door. He shuddered at the sight of it. He didn't like rats, especially in this place. The last time he'd seen one here it turned into Peter Pettigrew.

Harry had been hiding in the Shrieking Shack for hours now. The entire day, really. He'd slept in the room of Requirement until dawn when he woke realizing his friends would probably look for him there, so he hid back beneath his reliable cloak and fled to the desolate, decrepit house accessible through the whomping willow. It was almost sunset and no one had found him yet. He hoped they wouldn't. He knew they'd be looking for him by now, his friends, professors – maybe even Dumbledore had returned from wherever he'd been running off to so he could help find Harry. But no one had bothered to check the Shrieking Shack.

He unwrapped a chocolate bar, one he'd been keeping in his bedside cabinet for a while now. Since his last trip to Hogsmede when he'd treated himself to it. He crumpled up the wrapped and dropped it between his legs, then shoved the whole thing into his mouth. He moaned almost sensually at the experience. He'd hadn't thought to pack some proper food, so this was his first meal of the day and it tasted indescribably good.

A groan – from a ghost or the pipes, he didn't know – made him jump and he remembered where he was. Harry was unsure on why he'd come here, it had been a spur of the moment decision. All he'd known was that he needed to get away from everyone for a while – to let word spread without being there to see it himself – without having to run away from Hogwarts.

He'd considered it, of course, running from Hogwarts altogether but the part of him that thought reason convinced him that if he went too far, if he left the safest place on the planet then he was not only putting himself at risk of being found by the wrong kind of people, but he was putting those who would follow him at risk too.

No, he didn't need to run away forever. He just needed to get away until everyone knew his secret, until Draco had spread the word of the enormous, sad joke he'd played on poor, gay Potter. As the hours passed and he watched from the window sill as the sky shifted from blue to a burnt orange he imagined the faces of his friends when they discovered the truth. Ron and Hermione's shock; Seamus and Dean would probably laugh. Neville probably wouldn't want to but he'd join in anyway just to feel included. He imagined all the Slytherins' laughing at him, gossiping about him. His professors mumbling about him when they caught one another between classes. People in the portraits would travel from frame to frame, spreading the word until the whole school knew.

He would go back when dinner was over, when everyone was on their way back to their common rooms. When he'd only have his friends and the other Gryffindor to answer to.

That's when he them. "Harry? Harry?" From off in the distance. Ron and Hermione.

"Shit." He gasped. They'd found him. He put out the flames of his fire and used a blast of air to scatter the pile of ashes and get rid of the smoke. Snatching up his bag and his belongings, he moved as lightly as his could to the corner where he hid beneath his cloak. He felt stupid doing it.

"Harry!" Hermione called for him with desperation in her voice. He hated this, he hated hiding from them. He didn't know why he was doing it, the day was almost over and the news had more than likely reached every student in the school twice by now. There wouldn't be a single person not talking about it, so what was the point in hiding?

It didn't matter that Harry knew better, he couldn't rid himself of the terror creeping into his chest, closing his throat and making it hard to breathe beneath the cloak. He heard them enter the shrieking shack through the same crawl way he'd come through; their footsteps echoed throughout the ancient, haunted building as they searched for him, pleaded for him to come out if he was there.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He hated Ghost for this. He hated Draco.

He heard them coming up the stairs, then suddenly the door burst open and his friends entered the room. The very same room they'd all been in three years ago, when Sirius had taken Ron. Oh, Sirius. Harry didn't know why but he felt that if Sirius were here then none of this would be happening. He wouldn't have to panic, he wouldn't have to hide. He would have been able to write to Sirius and tell him everything and know he wouldn't have cared either way. If Harry was okay.

His friends were dressed casually; both wearing jumpers and jeans. Hermione wore a grey knitted jumper, her presumably cold fingers were hidden in the long sleeves. Ron wore an old blue one he'd gotten when he was thirteen that he'd finally grown into. (And with his new Keeper's body it fitted him handsomely.) They looked terrified and he regretted running immediately.

Hermione's shoulders slumped and she ran a hand through her hair to get it out of her face.

"He's not here." Ron said, then he shook his head. "C'mon, let's try the boathouse." She went to follow him but then she hesitated. Harry could hear the floorboards creak beneath her step.

"Wait…" She said, lifting her hand. She then pointed at something. Harry followed her eyes to find…the wrapper from his chocolate bar, there by the bed. He cursed himself. She then withdrew her wand and spoke a spell. " _Accio_ cloak." And Harry felt the cloak fly from his head and caught sight of it when she snatched it out of the air.

"Harry." Both his friends said at the same time. He looked down.

"Where have you been!" Hermione shrieked (she literally shrieked) as the two hurried over. He wanted to say that he'd been here, obviously. He pulled his knees up, rested his forearms on them and looked towards the wall. "I've been here." He answered without the 'obviously.' he thought she wouldn't appreciate that. Hermione dropped down next to him with such force he actually jumped; her eyes ran him up and down over and over.

"Are you alright, are you hurt?"

He pulled his arm free. "I'm fine." He lied.

"You ran off in the middle of the night." Ron said. "What happened, why'd you leave?" He didn't look as concerned as Hermione. Ron understood Harry, got that sometimes he just liked to be alone and fussing over him wasn't going to get Hermione anywhere.

"You know why I left." Harry mumbled, blinking away the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. He picked at the dry, cracked plaster on the wall by his side. A distraction.

"No, we don't." She exclaimed.

"Of course you do, don't be stupid. It's probably spread all around school by now." Harry wanted to yell then. There was no point in acting the idiot. Everyone knew. They had to know by now.

"Harry, we don't know what in the world you're talking about!" She rose her voice, angry with him.

"Not a clue, mate." Ron added, softer than Hermione. At hearing Ron say this too, he looked into their eyes. He wondered if they were lying just to get him to come home but he knew his friends just as well as they knew him. They weren't lying. They really hadn't a clue why he'd left.

"Nothing's been spread around the school. We've heard nothing about you all day other than professors furious you've skipped your classes. Why, what's happened?"

Harry licked his lips, then the roof of his mouth. God, his mouth was dry. He suddenly felt less numb than moments before, more aware now of everything happening around him. The cold seeping in through the draft when they left the remains of the door open, the whistling of the wind traveling through the ancient, rusted pipes of the Shrieking Shack. The splinter's he'd got during the night in his fingertips. All at once, the panic left him and he cracked a smile. "Nothing."

"Harry?" She urged.

"Something happened alright? I – I just needed to get away for a while." He brushed passed her, leaping to his feet. She looked up at him, just as lost with his sudden burst of life as he was. Ron helped her to her feet and she thanked him. Harry caught how her eyes left his own to meet Ron's for a moment during the exchange of her thanks.

"What happened?" She asked Harry again when he was her focus. He didn't answer, he bit the inside of his cheek. "You know you can tell us."

"I can't, not right now." He said.

"No, Harry, we're in this together. The three of us. You can't just shut us out after six years, after everything we've been through."

"If you mean what you say, that we're all in this together no matter what, then you need to trust me when I say this is something that you two don't need to be involved in." He hadn't mean the words to sound so ungrateful. "I'm glad I have you both, don't get me wrong, I am. But…but today isn't the right day to go into this. I, I need to sleep. Tomorrow we'll talk but please…not today."

Hermione made it known that she was disappointed, but she nodded anyway. "Fine, as long as you're okay."

"I will be." He said without an inkling of whether or not it was the truth.

They walked with him side by side back to the castle.

* * *

There was no dramatic pause. There was no long span of time the two boys – Harry and Ghost (Or should he just call him Draco now?) – did not see one another; this wasn't a romance novel. Harry saw Draco the very next morning sat at the Slytherin table in the Great hall, surrounded by his cronies. Eating breakfast and sniggering at a joke Pansy had told him. Harry hated him for it. How dare he go on acting like everything was okay when he'd pulled – no, torn – Harry's world apart in a single night. A single hour.

The night before a thought had occurred to Harry that made him look back at himself in shame. He'd considered turning the joke on Draco. If he were the one to tell everyone what happened, he could out and embarrass Draco. It wouldn't matter whether Draco really was gay or if that had been a part of the ruse too. All that mattered was everyone thinking he was. But then Harry thought about how that thought had been such a Slytherin thing to think. He realized in an instant that of course he would never do such a thing. He hated Draco, loathed him, but at the same time he wouldn't out someone who wasn't ready to come out. For all Harry knew, that part of 'Ghost' might have been true but he wasn't going to risk it if it was.

Harry was clenching his fists, but when the thought occurred to him he felt only shame and horror that he'd been able to picture hurting Ghost at all, even if it gave him the satisfaction that came along with hurting Draco.

"Harry?" Ginny's gentle voice pulled him from his rage, much to his gratitude. She looked over the way he'd been staring but glanced back with curiosity in her eyes. She wouldn't know. Couldn't guess the truth. Instead, she slid her arm through his and walked across the stone flags towards their usual spot on the Gryffindor table. Ron and Hermione were already seated and from the looks of it, bickering over something.

"What's he done now?" Ginny asked. Harry glanced sideways at her. "Draco?" She explained. "You've got that look. You put on a face whenever he's pissed you off."

He hadn't realized he spent so much time looking at Draco before all of this, or that anyone had taken notice.

Harry actually smiled but didn't say anything right away. He and Ginny may not have had a romantic relationship and though they walked arm in arm, it was strictly platonic – but they had a different friendship. It was different to his friendship with Ron and Hermione or anyone else. In a way, he thought she got him, understood him and what he was going through before he'd even figured it out himself.

"Just acting a prat, like always." Harry said when they sat down. One of her brows lifted and the other dropped, a look to say _Do you think I'm stupid enough to think that's all?_ But Harry left it at that. He sat down and Ginny made them both a plate of breakfast, she knew all his favourites and he thanked her with a forced smile. The conversation was not one he was drawn too. He kept nodding, mumbling here and then to make it seem as if he were interested but he found it harder to remain focussed on them when Ghost was across the room.

Harry looked up and met Draco's eye. His chest heaved, an immediate uncontrollable reaction. He tried, he strained to loosen his tense muscles. To look away. A part of him expected Draco to leap upright onto the table, point at Harry with a long, bony finger and yell to everyone that the famous Harry Potter was a fag.

He hated the way that word tasted in his mouth. He felt deviant and disgusted thinking it. But he had to assume the worse.

Draco didn't do that. He didn't yell or burst into laughter or point. Neither did any of his cronies, which made Harry consider the outrageous possibility that Draco had not told them. But he must have, surely. There was no way Draco Malfoy was going to play a cruel joke as big as this and _not_ show it off? Right?

He didn't like that he looked at him. He didn't like the _way_ he looked at him. With his silver eyes, so full of...knowledge. In the space of just a short few hours his arch nemesis (or his high-school arch nemesis. The true arch nemesis was a certain dark lord) had gone from being just as in the dark about his feelings as his own friends were to knowing all about them. Harry had exposed himself in so many vulnerable ways to perhaps the worst person he could think off. Harry would have preferred Voldemort himself to know that Harry was gay. Voldemort wouldn't tell all his friends about it, Voldemort wouldn't spread a secret that would surely pass from one person to another like a virus or a disease. Voldemort wouldn't care enough. He just wanted him dead.

And with the knowledge that Draco was about to do just that any day now made the idea of dying not so tragic. There was just one thing bugging Harry. Something he couldn't quite understand no matter how hard he tried.

Their kiss.

Harry could understand Draco leading him on for weeks under a false name – all his secrets made sense now – he could understand lying about the Polyjuice potion and getting to know all of Harry's deepest darkest fears – It was all a part of a huge cruel game. Harry got that. What he couldn't grasp was why Draco had kissed him.

Because he had kissed _him._ Harry hadn't instigated the kiss. Draco had. Of course, he could have just been really dedicated to seeing this joke through, but it felt like an unnecessary blow. Did Draco really want to hurt Harry in so many ways he would resort to making his first kiss with a boy a painful experience to reflect on rather than a wonderful one?

"Harry?" Hermione's voice captured his attention.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"I asked if you used your free time yesterday to get ahead of your assignments."

"Yeah." He said. He hadn't. He probably should have done. He was screwed.

The five of them – five since Luna had joined their little group during breakfast – packed up their things not long later and set off for their classes. Harry, Ron and Hermione all had Defence Against the Dark Arts that morning, which Harry was not looking forward too. You would think that in the middle of a war, learning to defend yourself against dark wizards and dangerous creatures would be something you would be interested in, and Harry usually was since he had discovered he wanted to be an Auror; though when Professor Snape took the position Harry found himself thoroughly regretting taking it as one of his classes.

There were the obvious reasons, though Harry also noticed that Snape taught his lessons with a sense of passion for the dark arts and this put Harry on edge. He'd guessed the reason Dumbledore had kept the position from Snape for so long was because of how dark Snape was, how he could relapse into his old Death Eater ways. Harry hoped Dumbledore hadn't made a grave mistake.

Harry was also dreading this class because Draco was a part of it. It would be different than seeing him in the great hall. In this room, they were only two desks apart. He felt that panic and anxiety set it, felt it burrow through his chest and spread to the rest of his body. He wrung his hands on his cloak.

"Are you okay?" Hermione wondered, looking down at them in confusion. Harry nodded and walked on.

They made their way up the grand staircase and through the many corridors until they reached the hall leading to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classrooms. Surprisingly, Professor Snape was already here. Snape looked as he always did: cold, pale, his greasy long hair hanging over half of his miserable old face. He was dressed in black robes, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. Usually, he burst into the room when the last person was seated (he liked to make an entrance, Harry thought) but today he stood outside. Harry knew the moment he saw him that Snape was waiting for him.

"Good luck." Ron muttered, following Hermione through the door. Harry didn't greet Snape, he stood aside and waited until the last of the students were going into the room; when Draco, who'd kept his head down and eyes on the floor, went to take a step, Snape's arm shot out and held his shoulder tightly.

"Hold on, Draco."

Draco looked up at Snape, then at Harry.

"Professor?"

"Wait here." Snape instructed. Snape stepped into the classroom and slammed the door behind him, leaving Harry and Draco alone. The awkwardness hung in the space between them, it ran over their skin like a current, causing him to shudder. He kept his eyes on the wall, or the floor, anywhere but in the direction of Draco.

After a full minute of silence, when Harry was contemplating leaving, Draco spoke.

"Harry…"

The door opened, making both boys jump within an inch of their life, and the Professor returned. He closed the door and turned to face both boys, scowling at them. "The two of you missed my class yesterday. Why?" The last word went on forever.

Harry looked at Draco but the blonde boy was looking at the professor. He looked tired. "I was unwell, sir." Even his voice was strained and hoarse.

"Pathetic excuse. Detention, tonight." Snape said, sounding almost bored. You'd think for a teacher like him upsetting students would at least put a smile on his miserable old face, yet he was still expressionless. Dead inside. What had he lost to leave him this way? Draco bit his lip and nodded to the head of his house, knowing him well by now. Snape turned on Harry and he took a step back.

"And you, Potter?" He asked, "What pathetic excuse do you have for me?"

"I…"

A door at the end of the hall opened and professor McGonagall appeared. She walked with purpose, and Harry prayed to whatever god would listen that he was that purpose.

"Minerva." Snape addressed her. Usually, it would be considered rude to address another member of staff by their first name in the presence of students. So naturally, Professor McGonagall responded with.

"Severus." The name sounding strange in her voice.

"Professor." Harry mumbled in greeting,

"Professor." Draco muttered a second later.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy." She said. She turned on Snape. "Sorry to interrupt, Professor, but would you mind if I borrowed Mr. Potter here?" Harry's heart picked up its pace and he fought to hide the smile on his face. The God's had listened. He was saved. Snape looked as if he were prepared to argue with her but Professor McGonagall cut him off before he could speak. "Professor Dumbledore has sent for him." This did the trick, Harry thought. Snape closed his mouth and swallowed the words; he wouldn't refuse Dumbledore.

"Fine. But first, Mr. Potter, your answer?"

"Answer?" Harry asked, gulping.

"Your whereabouts yesterday. Where were you when you should have been in my classroom?"

"Uh-"

"That is why Professor Dumbledore has called for him." Professor McGonagall said before Harry could come up with a decent lie. "I was on my way to ask Potter the very same thing but Professor Dumbledore caught me and informed me he'd taken Harry off grounds yesterday morning, before first period."

"He did?" Snape asked accusingly.

"He did?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Yes…" She answered both, "Why, did he not?"

"No, No, I meant Yeah, he did. I- I just didn't know he'd told you." Harry was proud he'd come up with that excuse in the second that passed since she asked him. She'd looked at him with confusion in her eyes, as if she knew she was being lied too but if she did, she didn't say anything.

"Well, I _am_ the deputy headmistress, Mr. Potter." She said and he nodded, not wanting to say something stupid and give it away.

"Very well," Snape droned on. "But detention. The two of you. Tonight." At this, Harry's heart sank, but his stomach shot to his throat. Detention. With Draco. Tonight. Alone? He gulped and exchanged a look with Draco who looked equally as petrified as Harry. He let out a long, shaky breath earning himself a curious look from Snape. McGonagall didn't say anything, she just pursed her lips and waited. "And...fifteen points from both houses." Snape added, sounding more angered at Draco than Harry. Harry wondered if Snape cared about winning the house cup. Honestly, no one had since their fourth year. There were bigger things to worry about.

"Come, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall said, beckoning him forward. He'd never been so grateful to be called away from class. He didn't bother to ask if he needed to leave his belongings behind, he threw the strap of his bag over his shoulder and hurried after her.

"Remember, Potter, Detention. Tonight." Snape said in a monotone voice. Harry glanced over his shoulder Snape who then went into the classroom. Draco stopped in the doorway to look back at Harry but Harry had already turned away. How could he forget.

* * *

Harry followed Professor McGonagall through Hogwarts to the Headmasters office; he didn't need to though, he'd memorized the way by now. They stopped in the headmaster's tower, just before the large and ugly stone gargoyle which guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. She used the password, held out her hands and the gargoyle spread its wings to allow Harry to enter.

"Thank you, professor." Harry said, she nodded to him and left. Harry stepped beneath the giant wing, and headed up the steps as the gargoyle lifted him up the tower. Once he stepped inside, he took in the office and found Dumbledore was nowhere in sight. In all of the teachers' offices Harry had visited during his time at Hogwarts so far, Dumbledore's was by far his favourite. It was a large and beautiful circular room with tall, arching windows and floor to ceiling bookshelves. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames.

"Harry?" Harry spun to see Dumbledore emerging from behind the chair of his enormous claw-footed desk. Dumbledore looked as he always did: tall and thin, with silver hair and beard so long they could be tucked into his belt. Clad in silver and lilac robes that looked almost as ancient as him. They hung from him in layers, his sleeves almost trailing along the ground behind him. He had a large tome in his hands which he set down atop the surface of the desk. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"Yes, right. Professor McGonagall brought me." He said by way of explanation, beckoning absentmindedly towards the door but McGonagall had not followed him up. "You wanted to see me, professor?" Harry asked. Dumbledore nodded and pointed towards one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

"Yes, please sit." Harry did so and sank back into the warm leather. It was always warm in this office. "Biscuit?" Dumbledore said and Harry now noticed the small plate of biscuits on the desk: digestives, bourbons, ginger nuts, Jammie dodgers. All his favourites. Harry shrugged and took one.

"Professor, why did you tell Professor McGonagall I was with you yesterday." Harry asked as his curiosity got the better of him.

"I figured whatever the reason for your running off, adding a detention to it wouldn't be the best way to go." Harry nodded, and thanked his professor. He thought it best not to mention the detention he already had. "But you must understand, Harry," Dumbledore said as he slowly took to his desk and sat carefully into his throne of a seat. The effort seemed to have tired him and Harry had to remind himself that Dumbledore was an old, _old,_ wizard. Harry had seen him do unbelievable things: his duel with Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic last year had been a true spectacle. The power Dumbledore had displayed in those few short minutes had been magnificent. It made Harry think that if moments such as this, tiring at staying on his feet longer than ten minutes, left him winded then acts such as the one within the ministry must have taken a tremendous toll on the Professor. "That as much as you might not want to hear it, you are the one Voldemort wants to see dead, and you and I can both agree that he will stop at nothing to do it. Vanishing in the middle of the night when we are at war could start a country-wide panic."

"I know." And he did, he'd known it when he ran but at the time, it hadn't seemed nearly as catastrophic as what he thought Draco planned to do. "I'm sorry, Sir." Harry said.

"What's troubling you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, learning forward to take a biscuit of his own. "I can tell it's more than your studies, more than Voldemort, even. Something personal."

"Nothing, it's nothing, professor. Just- Just worrying about the usual. That's all."

"I've been working at this school for many decades and have heard many excuses in that time so forgive me, Harry, If I don't believe you when you say that's all."

Harry didn't know what to say to Dumbledore. A part of him wanted to get angry and tell the old fool to mind his damn business, but then Harry realized he would never dream of saying that to Dumbledore. Of course, he'd gone off on him the year before when Sirius…

But that had been different, he'd been grieving and Dumbledore was telling him what he needed to hear. But this…this was something different. He looked down at his hands which had balled into fists on his lap. He realized he wasn't necessarily angry with Dumbledore, but angry with himself. Or more specifically, that he was gay. He was angry something such as this could be so small yet have such a huge impact on his life. He was angry he let it get to him, angry at what exploring it had done to his heart.

"I'm…" Harry started. Dumbledore waited. Harry tried to find the words but he couldn't say them aloud.

"Gay." Dumbledore said. He said it in a way that made Harry think of it more as a statement and not a question. Hearing that word said aloud and used when referring to himself gave Harry an unexpected sense of tension and panic. As if the word alone was a spell that could turn everyone he'd ever loved against him. What confused him more was why these thoughts and feelings were happening. He knew his friends, he knew they would love him no matter what, he'd reminded himself of this fact for weeks now but for some reason he could not control nor shake this fear. Was it this way for all LGBT kids? Did they all panic and worry when…. when coming out even if they already knew they'd be accepted as they were? Was it some kind of built in, instinctual terror?

"Harry?" Dumbledore said his name softly, tilting his head. Harry realized he hadn't moved, hadn't said anything. Did he need to? He looked down and nodded once. After another full minute of silence Harry finally spoke.

"You already knew?" Dumbledore knew everything, it seemed.

"In point of fact, Harry, I hadn't the foggiest."

"Really?" He'd kind of assumed Dumbledore of all people to have seen it coming. Maybe go on to have a huge conversation about how he'd seen the signs from an early age or something like that. "Then how did you know?" Harry wondered.

"You didn't say anything afterwards. I did the same when my mother asked me if I was gay when I was seventeen. She didn't use as quite a nice as word as Gay, but you get the idea."

"Yo-You are? You're-"

"Gay?" Dumbledore huffed, a smile on the corner of his wrinkled mouth. Harry nodded and Dumbledore laughed. "You don't need to fear that word. I've told you this before, fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself." He remembered the first time he'd told him that and smiled. "But yes, Harry, I am Gay. Though admittingly it has been many, many decades since I've been interested in anyone in that kind of way. In a way, you can say I grew bored of romance altogether."

Harry didn't know how to process this. He didn't want to picture it. He'd never, in a million years, would have guessed that Dumbledore was…gay. He'd imagined him having a somewhat stereotypical housewife long ago. The kind of wife who cooked and who cleaned and who had children, back when that's the way the world worked. But he'd never imagined Dumbledore as loving a man. In a way, he felt strangely connected to his professor in a way he hadn't before. They both shared something in common, something unmagical and ordinarily human: sexuality.

"I can see why you're going through a hard time. Though I can tell you this, Harry, you will never have to fear judgement on this in this school."

"It's not just that, its." He paused, biting his lip. "Something happened." He said.

"Tell me what happened."

So, Harry told him and it felt amazing to be able to talk about it to someone other than himself. He told Dumbledore about how he always knew he wasn't as interested in girls and sex like the others boys, but it wasn't until he found the Doppel-diary and starting talking to this mysterious Ghost that he realized it was because he wasn't interested in girls' period. He told the professor how he and Ghost had talked for weeks through the pages of that book and how Harry had barred his body and soul to the person on the other end.

"And this…Ghost?" Dumbledore said after he'd finished explaining the first half of the story. "You found out who he really was, and he wasn't to your liking?"

"He turned out to be someone I could never be with. Someone I hate." He couldn't say Draco's name but he didn't need to, he'd given it away with just those few words. Dumbledore sat back and rested his hands on his lap, interlocking his fingers. He let out a sigh.

"I can see how this discovery would pain you. Would scare you into running."

"I wasn't running for good. I just didn't want to be here when he told everyone."

"Has he? I haven't heard a thing."

"No, and that's the thing. I don't know what he's waiting for.

"Have you considered that Draco might not have been playing a practical joke on you? That he, like you, is just as frightened to face his sexuality? That he does care for you?"

Harry allowed himself to consider it but found that possibility hurt just as much as the other. "I don't think you're right. I know Draco, I know he's just as cruel and as conniving as his father. Any opportunity to ruin my life, he'd take it. He has darkness in him."

Dumbledore ran his long and skilful fingers through his beard, as if thinking. Almost like some Japanese master in an old movie Harry had seen once. His other hand, however, frightened Harry every time he saw it. He'd asked the professor not long ago why his hand had turned black and scarred. Dumbledore had told him very lit then but had explained it was the result of a curse, one Harry was sure to discover more of in the months to come. He hadn't a clue what that had meant, why couldn't Dumbledore explain everything to him outright but he knew Dumbledore was an old man, as wise as he was mysterious, and he trusted him.

"I feel I've been through a similar situation." He said at last.

"You have?"

"A long time ago. In my early twenties. It was a different time back then, people weren't as accepting as they are today and will be in the future. But I had met someone, someone whom would come to have a huge impact on my then mundane life, and not only in positive ways. I was unsure on whether or not I should follow my heart of keep these feelings buried within me. I needed to speak to my mother. So, I planned to tell her but when the time came I couldn't say the words. So, she said them for me and it made it somehow easier. But…this man I found myself falling in love with, he too had a dark side. One my love could not conquer."

Harry could see the emotion pouring out of Dumbledore through his eyes, the story spoke through them. A brilliant, soul-piercing shade of blue that twinkled back at Harry through his half-moon spectacles. "I used to think maybe if he and I had met when we were younger, when he wasn't so tainted by the dark arts and his poisonous ambitions, then I could have helped him. Saved him. But I too was young and naive and now I see that no matter what I did, he would always find himself on that same dark path. "He sat up from his seat to stretch his legs, and went to open one of the tall windows. The breeze was refreshing and just what Harry needed.

He turned to face him.

"Unfortunately for Draco, he was born into a family that's set out a path for their son, a dark path he had no choice in following. But, unlike Grindelw-" He paused, not finishing the name. Harry didn't recognize the start of it anyway. "Unlike the man I loved, it's not too late for Draco. I understand this is a hard time for you and you need to think what's best for yourself, but maybe – if it isn't a prank – then your forgiveness and even just your friendship could be what he needs to find his way. Remember, Harry, that you have friends in this place. Family. Who will love you no matter what."

Harry listened to the wind. And to his thoughts. After the longest time, Dumbledore finally asked a question. "Would you like me to speak to Draco? I've been planning to meet with him soon anyway."

"No, No. I think I know what I need to do." Harry said. And he meant it.

He thanked Dumbledore before leaving to find Ron and Hermione.

He had to tell them something.

* * *

His friends were still in class so Harry decided to return to the common room and wait for their return. He went over what he planned to say a dozen times in his head, planning what words to use and what answers he would need for the questions they would surely have. He even tried to write it down before he burned the paper and decided just to wing it.

Eventually, they did return; they walked together into the common room and were talking about Lavender's obsession with drawing love hearts on Ron's books and that professor Flitwick had called Ron aside to ask him why he'd signed his homework assignment with a love heart. Harry smiled when he overheard that.

"Hey, um, will you guys come with me?" He asked, cutting Hermione off mid-sentence. She frowned and only now did Ron look up from the parchment in front of him. They were his best friends and they knew him better than anyone, the two of them could tell just from the way Harry had spoken and the look in his eye that there was something troubling their friend, something he wanted to confess.

"Yeah, alright." Hermione said, her words spoken tenderly. As if any hesitant or hostile word could set Harry off, convince him to withdraw his request and shut them out. Was this truly how he came across? Closed off from exhibiting his emotion? It hadn't been intentional.

He lead the two of them to his room silently; he could picture Ron and Hermione exchanging looks, mouthing to one another behind his back as to whether either of them had an idea on what Harry wanted to say. He doubted anything they could come up with would be anywhere near the truth.

" _Colloportus._ " Harry said with a flick of his wand, the door slammed shut behind his friends and locked of its own accord. He caught another worried look between his two friends.

"You don't have to worry," he said, "It's nothing too serious – well – it's nothing to do with Voldemort." Hermione cringed. He knew some of his friends, some of the Order, even, did not like to say his name. Funny, how this thought passed his mind only a short while after Dumbledore had repeated the same quote to him today as the same day they talked about Voldemort.

"Sit down," He told them. They did. Harry plonked himself down on the edge of his bed, thinking about hot it was in that room. He pulled his jumper over his head and used it to dab his forehead. Then he ran his sweaty palms over his trousers. He realized that a full minute had passed since he'd said anything, and they were waiting for him. This was it. The big moment it would all change. He trusted in what Dumbledore had said, and he trusted in his friends. Now, looking in their eyes he knew that his family would not abandon him now.

So, he said two little words.

"I'm Gay."

* * *

Asher's Note:

Hello Everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Longer than the other ones, thankfully. In this chapter a lot of serious stuff happens. I hope you enjoyed and I hope it reads well. Thanks! P.S. Sorry if this chapter seems a little rushed. I edited this early in the morning. I should have probably waited until I rested to go through it but I was eager to update for you all. Forgive me for any spelling/grammatical mistakes.

* * *

Responding to your reviews:

The Night Goddess: Hello and thank you! Ha-ha. I'm glad you enjoyed and I hope you enjoy this chapter also. Oh, and please don't eat my skittles. I do love my skittles!

J.P. Dufour: Glad you enjoyed chapter One. I'm glad you enjoyed the others too!

Mysticalgems: Hello! Glad you enjoyed and thanks for your review! I agree, who wouldn't want to see Tom Felton naked. Thank you so much for your kind words, people like you remind me why I love to write fanfiction.

Lytebrytehybrid88: Thank you for reviewing! Glad you are enjoying. I hope you enjoy this chapter too.

CursedRaven: As you could tell, Draco was the rational one and it was Harry who panicked and bolted. It was Harry also who cut all ties at first. I like that image though, of a naked Draco sprinting down the hall naked aha! I got your Private message but thought it would be easier to reply to all you said here. I agree with you but these are teenagers and teenagers rarely do think rationally. Thank you so much for your kind words, I hope you continue to enjoy.

Annaburton5.5apple26: Thank you, glad you're enjoying and I know. I do love cliff-hangers!

Pancake Lover101: Thank you! I hope you like it!

~Asher~


	6. Chapter 6

~Chapter Six~

* * *

Harry told his friends everything. The words poured out of him like magic.

He sat his two friends down on the end of his bed, stood before them – frightened and alone – and told them everything. He told them a more fleshed out version of what he'd told Dumbledore; that he had never been interested in girls the way he'd grown to be interested in boys. He explained how in the past he had seen girls and although he had thought of them as beautiful – Cho for example – he could not bring himself to want them physically.

Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke whilst Harry bore his soul to them. They didn't interrupt at all. Harry couldn't decide whether or not this was a good sign or a bad one. In a way though, it made it easier – easier to just keep talking. He paced back and forth as he told them the truth about what had happened to the doppel-diary. He apologised to Hermione for telling her he'd thrown it away but in truth he'd kept it and lied to her. When she'd asked why – the first word she'd spoken since he began talking almost half an hour ago – he told them the true reasoning behind it.

He told them about Ghost.

It was only when he was contacted by this 'Ghost' that he discovered he was attracted to men. That he found the label that best fitted him: Gay. Tears burned his eyes when he explained how over the past month he and Ghost had bonded, had kindled a friendship unlike any of theirs. Just as powerful but more so in indescribable ways.

"Why are you crying?" Hermione asked, smiling brightly up at him as if he'd just told her she would pass all her N.E.W.T's "You found someone. Harry – Harry that's wonderful!" She exclaimed. He shook his head, his cheeks burning with embarrassment at crying in front of his friends when these past years he'd tried valiantly to appear strong. He dropped onto the edge of the bed between them. Hermione wrapped her arms around him. "What is it?" She asked.

"Ghost. He…I found out who he was."

And Harry told them that too. He told them how Ghost had slipped up after their fight and told Harry where he'd be. How Harry had been unable to stop himself and went to the bathroom. But the person he found in the tub was the last person he'd been expecting.

"Wasn't Draco, was it?" Ron snorted, his tone riddled with humour but also love for his friend. As if he'd convinced himself making a joke would lighten the mood, lift their spirits. It was only when Harry remained silent – screaming inside – that Ron and Hermione caught on. Their smiles faltered.

"You've got to be joking." Ron exclaimed, the edge of his mouth twitched into a smile he fought to hide. Harry considered punching him.

"You mean to say…" Hermione glanced over Harry's shoulder at the door, ensuring the silencing charm still held strong. "Draco is Ghost? He's the boy you've been talking to, the one you fell…"

She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to. Harry just dropped his head and nodded. He told them how Draco tried to call Harry back, tried to talk to him but he'd ran. He explained how all he could do was imagine Draco telling all his friends about Harry and that it must have been a joke from the start. A cruel, _cruel_ joke.

"It's why you ran off, yeah?" Ron guessed. "To the shrieking shack?"

"You thought Draco had told everyone while you were gone. You didn't want to be around to hear it." Hermione finished.

Harry nodded and rubbed the end of his runny nose with his jumper sleeve. His vision blurry because of his crying. "Do you see now why I couldn't explain it to you yesterday?" He asked Hermione. "I couldn't tell you why I ran. I thought by the time you'd find me you would already know."

"Oh my god, Harry." Hermione exclaimed suddenly and loudly, throwing both her arms around his neck and hauling him into a tight and uncomfortable hug. She was crying now, he could feel her sobbing into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I snapped at you yesterday, and the other day about the book."

"I'd get her to say sorry in advance for the next time she has a pop. Not often she says this." Ron's brows arched once and he nodded at Hermione. The response made Harry laugh, but he held Hermione tighter.

"I mean it." She said, "I had to no clue. _We_ had no clue."

"Yeah, mate. For a moment, I thought you were after Ginny." Ron huffed.

Harry kept silent.

When she finally broke apart. Harry stood up only to be hugged by Ron. He hadn't been expecting it. It was a manly hug. That was the only way to describe it. Ron pulled Harry quickly into his chest and held him tight while they patted one another on the back several times. "We love you, mate." Ron said and the words stunned Harry.

"We do." Hermione said, standing upright. "No matter who you love. We love you." Harry wanted to thank them but the words couldn't come. He was too choked up and too embarrassed by it all to speak. What made it even more awkward was the group hug Hermione ushered them into. It was strange but at the same time warm and comforting. It gave Harry a sense of security. That no matter who Draco told, their insults and laughter would roll right off his back. And his friends.

"So, why'd you think Draco hasn't blabbed yet?" Ron asked, breaking apart the group hug. He scratched the back of his head and moved to drop onto his own bed.

"I don't know." Harry said, letting out a heavy, hot breath. "Maybe he's-"

Harry halted when he heard thumping. The puzzled looks on his friends faces hinted that they too had heard the noise. He only realized it was someone knocking on their dorm room door when he spotted a shimmer of golden light shine through the keyhole. The door then thrust open and Seamus, Dean and Neville walked in. Dean and Neville were laughing about something but Seamus – witness to the scene before him – stopped in the threshold and frowned and the three of them.

"What's going on?" He asked, his accent thick. "And how'd she get in here?" He asked, brushing by Ron and beckoning to Hermione with a sweep of his arm as he dropped onto the edge of his bed. "Lasses aren't s'pose to be able to get in here."

The tension in the room felt heavy against Harry's shoulders. Ron lightened it with his contagious laughter. "C'mon." He snorted. "You didn't think those spells could keep Hermione out, did ya?" Neville and Dean laughed, which convinced Seamus to laugh too.

"No, but you want to show me how you did it?" He asked Hermione. One delicately plucked brow arched higher than the other, perhaps wondering why Seamus was asking. Harry and Ron knew _exactly_ what Seamus meant just in the way he said it and the look he gave. "Wouldn't mind bringing some girls up myself, if you know what I mean." He winked and Hermione rolled her eyes, bouncing to her feet.

"Come on." She grabbed her things, folded her arms and stormed out of the room, muttering something foul beneath her breath. Harry and Ron laughed and grabbed their bags to follow. As Harry ensured he had everything he would need for class that day, Seamus approached.

"You been crying?" Seamus asked, stepping in front of him with a strange look on his face. Harry, only now thinking of the redness his eyes took on when he cried, shook his head and turned away. He didn't stop to hear if Seamus had anything else to say, he just took off after his friends. They would need to finish their conversation somewhere a little more private. He would have stopped in the common room but at this time of the day it was nowhere near empty.

He followed Ron through the portrait of the Fat Lady to find Hermione waiting for them on the stairwell beyond. "Seamus is disgusting." She said. Ron and Harry just smiled. Harry couldn't blame Seamus – or any other boy who wanted to know how Hermione had done it – as he was just that; a boy. A teenage boy with raging hormones and needs and feelings he doesn't quite understand. Harry hadn't realized how lucky he'd been in the sense that he would have been able to get boys into his room.

Then he remembered that was only as long as the boy was in Gryffindor and Draco could never have made it through the portrait in the first place.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked as Harry lead the way down the grand stairwell. He shrugged and let his hand slide down the railing.

"Anywhere, someplace we won't be heard." He said just as the staircase began to move. They moved as the staircases moved, going lower and lower in the castle. Morning break would soon be over and they would all need to return to class. He didn't want to finish this conversation later; it was helping him, talking about it all aloud and in the open with his friends.

"So why'd you think he's waiting." Ron asked as they descended another stairwell. Harry waited until the first years sprinting up past them were too far to hear before he replied.

"I don't know. Maybe he's waiting for the right time. The perfect opportunity to knock me while I'm down."

Ron shrugged as if to say that possibility was as viable as any other but he hadn't a clue which to believe yet. Harry looked to Hermione to find her staring off into the distance, no, into thought. She bit her lip. She did that when she was concentrating on something.

"What?" Harry asked. He didn't know what was coming but he guessed he wouldn't like it.

"Have you considered the possibility that Draco might actually like you?"

"Oh, come off it, Hermione." Ron laughed, but there was little humour in his voice.

"I'm serious." She argued.

"You sound like Dumbledore." Harry answered. They'd just stepped onto one of the last moving stairwells. They were on their way to the great hall, it seemed.

"Dumbledore knows about this?"

"Yeah, I was just with him. When I got called out of Defence earlier McGonagall showed up, rescued me, and took me to his office. We talked" Harry had chosen not to mention to his friends that Dumbledore was gay. It wasn't a secret – Dumbledore certainly didn't act like it was one – but it wasn't something Harry felt his friends needed to know. "He can't like me." Harry said after a moment's pause. "Draco isn't capable of feeling love." Hermione rolled her eyes but Harry didn't retract his comment. He believed it one hundred percent.

"Speak of the devil." Ron muttered under his breath. Harry's heart dropped when he followed Ron's eyes down, down past the shifting staircases, to the very bottom floor where none other than Draco Malfoy was heading towards the basement. The others could probably only tell it was him for the silvery blonde hair, gangly frame and Slytherin robes – but not Harry. Harry hadn't realized it but he'd memorized Draco over the years; the way he held himself upright with a sense of confidence and authority passed down from his father, and how when no one was looking he'd drop the mask he wore and allow his true expression and features to show through.

And they were usually soft and gentle. Not as harsh and cold as he made them.

Harry could tell it was Draco from the way he held his bag over his shoulder in the same way Harry did, but Draco would lay his palm flat against the side of his satchel and occasionally drum his fingers against the leather as if repeating a tune he had heard earlier in the day. It was too far for Harry to see but he wondered if Draco was doing that now.

"It must be difficult for you to see him, Harry." She said it in a way that made Harry wonder if she'd listened to a single word he'd just said. She spoke to him softly, with caution and steadiness – as if Harry had made it seem he believed Draco had actually cared for him. It annoyed Harry she hadn't believed him when he'd told her what he wholeheartedly thought to be fact, but he was in no mood to argue with her and one very rarely won and argument with Hermione.

"I couldn't care less." Harry replied, shrugging it off though that was only a half-truth. "I'm just dreading tonight."

"Tonight?" Hermione and Ron glanced at him, awaiting further explanation.

"Snape gave Draco and me detention tonight for skipping classes yesterday." They stepped into the great hall. It was packed with students as usual, though they were scribbling away in notepads and finishing homework. Those whom had already done it lounged about on the table tops, laughing and gossiping with friends. Few were already packing up their things and headed the way Harry and his friends had just come. Morning break was almost over.

"Detention?" Hermione exclaimed beneath her breath. Harry couldn't tell if she was worrying over the fact Harry and Draco had detention together or the fact Harry had landed himself another detention period. "Harry, you don't need to go." She said as they approached their usual spot on the Gryffindor table. Ron snatched up an apple from the fruit basket close to them. "Go to Dumbledore. He'll understand, he might be able to get you out of it or arrange it for another night."

Harry toyed with the idea for a minute but shook his head, choosing against it. "No," He simply said. He looked to the Slytherin table despite knowing Draco wasn't there. "I've got a feeling after today Draco will want to talk with me."

"After today?" Ron said, his words mangled due to the apple chunks in his mouth.

"Yeah."

"Why?" Hermione added, her voice hardened. "What else is happening today?"

Harry sighed and looked to his friends. He'd thought about what he was going to say next, he'd been contemplating whether it was a good idea or not but after coming out to them and receiving such warm responses in return, he'd made up his mind. "Because…" Harry said, the words bringing with them a wave of nausea. "I'm coming out today. To…to everyone."

* * *

Harry started back in his room in the Gryffindor tower. He felt that Seamus, Dean and Neville – as his roommates – deserved to be told as soon as possible. If they heard it from anyone else, they would've felt like Harry was trying to keep it a secret from them and he didn't want their friendships ruined by this. But the truth of the matter was that Harry had no clue how _anyone_ would take the news. He could only hope and remember what Dumbledore had said: he would never have to fear being judged in this school.

Seamus and Dean had thought it was a joke at first, a bet Harry had lost or something along those lines. Only Neville had believed him when Harry first said it but he remained silent. Seamus and Dean only caught onto the truth when they realized they were the only ones laughing. Seamus asked if Harry was serious and Harry had ensured him he was totally serious. Seamus's face was expressionless for a while and Harry wondered if Seamus was one of those backward pricks who hated gay people. But after another minute he just nodded, shrugged and stood up.

"I'm happy for ya, mate." He said. Dean nodded and, after Seamus had showed Harry his thoughts on the matter, Dean decided on his own and flashed a wide, bright smile of pearly white teeth. Dean embraced him and patted him on the back.

"Just as long as I don't catch you staring at me while I'm getting changed." Seamus said. Harry rolled his eyes. He'd expected something like that from Seamus.

"Believe it or not, Seamus," Hermione said from the door. "Just because you're a boy doesn't mean Harry finds you the least bit attractive."

It was something Harry knew most straight men thought when face to face with a gay man. "What if they fancy me?" Ugh. It made Harry cringe. Seamus was handsome but he was most certainly not what Harry fancied.

"You alright, Neville?" Harry asked. Neville hadn't said anything yet. But Neville was too kind a person to think about saying anything against anyone.

"Yeah, happy for you, Harry." Was all he said with a smile. He pulled out some homework and started doing it on his bed. Harry just shrugged and turned to his friends. Hermione, standing at the door with a bright smile on her face, imply said.

"Who's next?"

He said her name the moment they were through the door. "Ginny."

Harry needed to find Ginny before morning break was over – for some reason he felt she should hear it from his mouth and not through the great vine. He found her smiling, talking quietly with Luna in the courtyard. Luna was rambling on about wrackspurts disrupting her sleep when he approached.

"Sorry, Luna, to interrupt but can I steal Ginny for a minute, is that alright?" Harry had said when he found them.

"Of course, Harry," She sang in her lullaby voice, pulling The Quibbler out of her bag to read. "But don't be too long. Ginny is going to help me find a dress for tonight."

"What's tonight?" Harry asked, his focus disrupted either by what she'd said or wrackspurts.

"Nothing. I just feel like wearing a dress to bed."

Ginny glanced back at Harry and gave him a look, one she made sure Luna couldn't see. Harry just nodded, understanding completely what the look conveyed. "I won't be long." Harry just said. Taking Ginny's hand, he hurried her to the side of the courtyard.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, but Harry didn't answer her until they reached the edge of the courtyard, where they overlooked the long, bendy stairwell leading to the boathouse in the distance. A heavy gust of wind blew by, bringing with it the scent of the lake they overlooked. "Harry?" She sounded concerned.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I…I just needed to talk." He'd chosen to let Ron and Hermione return to class. Hermione didn't want to be late, Ron wasn't too fussed but Hermione decided to make sure he wasn't late either.

"Okay, what about?" Ginny asked. She too checked they were alone before turning back to him. Even in the early morning light – albeit grey – Ginny was still beautiful. In some alternate universe where he was straight, he could easily see himself settling down with her, having a couple kids, Harry working as an Auror and Ginny as a professional Quidditch Player. He could see it now and see how beautiful that image was. But it wasn't going to happen. Not in this world. It just wasn't meant to be, and Harry had made peace with that.

"I need to tell you something."

"You're gay."

Stunned. And half a minute of silence before Ginny said. "Are you okay?"

Harry scoffed aloud and dropped his arms to his sides with a slap. "How did you know? Do I come across gay? Am I camp and no one's telling me?" At this not-so-rhetorical question, Ginny laughed. Her laugh was feminine but not annoying, like Lavenders, but not soft like Hermione's. Ginny simply put her arms around Harry's neck as if she _were_ about to kiss him but she just pulled him into a tight hug.

"Oh, Harry!" She laughed into his shoulder. Her hug was different from Ron and Hermione's and he found himself squeezing back, not caring if anyone saw and accused them of being together. No one ever would again after today. Tears formed in Harry's eyes but he blinked them away just as Ginny pulled back. "No, no you don't come across camp or gay!" She tittered, "But I just knew. I think I have for a while."

"Really? You couldn't have filled me in on it, save me the trouble of figuring it out for myself." He put on a purposely pissed off tone but they both could tell he was only joking. He leaned back against the stone railing and looked out to the lake and the island in the centre of it.

"What? And miss this awkward coming out moment?" She said, leaning next to him. "Don't worry about it, really. It's not that big a deal for me." She stared at him and he felt those butterflies in his stomach. But like their hug and their walking hand in hand it was strictly platonic. Innocent. There was nothing between them that way. "Does my brother know? Hermione?"

"Yeah, Yeah, I told them earlier. They were fine with it." He didn't know why he added that last bit, he just felt as if he had to.

"Of course, they were fine with it, Harry. And anyone else you decide to tell will be fine with it too, or else." She said and it made him laugh because he knew she meant it. "There are plenty of gay kids at this school, Harry. Plenty of gay boys and gay girls, Bi and trans people too."

"There are?" This surprised him. The gay and Bi not so much but he hadn't met anyone trans yet.

"Of course. There are in every school. You just have to know where to look." Maybe that was why he hadn't known. He hadn't ever been looking. It was quiet again for a long while. They just listened to the wind and the chatter, birds and owls in the sky.

"Can I ask – and if I'm way off here just tell me so and I'll shut up – but…the other day, when you ran…were you and Draco?" The question hung in the air.

Harry stopped smiling and looked to the floor. He knew he needn't say anything, Ginny would know just from the way he reacted or the look in his eye. Hell, Ginny would have known anyway and was only asking to be polite. Harry nodded once and waited for her to speak. "What happened, between you two?" Harry hadn't been expecting that. He'd been expecting the kind of reaction he got from Ron and Hermione. The moment of disgust and confoundment. That Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were in love. But it wasn't like that and Ginny needed to know the truth, so Harry told her.

It took up their last ten minutes or morning break but he explained to her the situation he was facing. The doppel-diary, the character of Ghost Draco had come up with. Their kiss. Finding Draco in the bathtub instead of the man he had fallen in love with.

"Wow…" Ginny said, tucking a strand of shimmering red hair behind her ear. The sun had peered through the clouds and a ray of golden light made Ginny's freckles shine. "That's…wow."

"Yeah." Harry said. They were the last of the students in the courtyard now, everyone else had left – except for Luna whom scowled at them from across the way.

"Come on, Ginny! We'll be late and I need to change my shoes first, these one feel angry."

Ginny and Harry exchanged another look before making their way over to her. As they passed the fountain, Ginny whispered to Harry. "Hey, thanks for telling me." Harry just smiled and shrugged in response. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here."

He thanked her only with a smile and it was the only thanks she needed.

* * *

By dinner that evening there was not a soul in all of Hogwarts whom hadn't heard about Harry being Gay. Harry would have bet everyone in Hogsmeade would know soon too. He just wondered when the day would come he'd see it in a headline of the daily prophet and then the whole wizarding world would know. He hadn't thought about that when coming out– the disadvantages of being a celebrity – but he could not bring himself to regret the decision to come out to the world.

Harry didn't need to tell dozens of people. He told just those few people – Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Ginny, Seamus, Dean and Neville – but everyone somehow found out. Harry guessed his roommates as he doubted Hermione Ginny or Dumbledore were the type to gossip. Come to think of it his roommates weren't either but when it was something as huge as this, he wouldn't be surprised if the teacher weren't gossiping about it too.

No one had confronted him on it yet which was good. He'd noticed people starring as he passed between classes with his friends, noticed a few fingers pointing and conversations turning to whispers but no one had approached him and demanded the truth. Not until Dinner, where everyone was looking at him.

"Relax." Ginny told him, sitting down next to him with her food.

"I'm trying." Harry groaned. "It's not easy to do when everyone and their nan's staring at you."

"You're the Boy who Lived." Ginny exclaimed overdramatically, "You'd think you'd be used to the starring by now."

"This is different," He said, "It's not the same."

"I know what you mean," She finally said when she could tell it was getting to him. Harry's nerves were getting to him too, he didn't like that literally everyone had stared at him that day. That everyone knew the very same secret he'd been desperate to keep hidden just the day before. Had he only discovered Draco was Ghost a day ago? It felt longer than that. Weeks. Long, agonizing weeks.

"It'll all pass soon." Hermione said, smiling at Harry, so sure of herself. But then Harry noticed how she looked over his shoulder and her smile dropped. She reached across and her hand gripped atop Ron's wrist to get his attention, Ron looked up and his eyes widened too. He stood upright, hands balled into fists and his mouth pulled into a fine line.

Harry spun to find himself face to face with four Slytherin Students sneering down at him like dog muck on their shoes. "Potter." One of them spat. They'd got that from Draco, he realized. Harry swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. Those nerves picking up again.

"Heard you came out the cupboard."

"The expression is coming out of the closet, idiot." Ginny almost snarled at them. Harry hadn't realized when she'd stood up but she had, as had Hermione. The great hall had gone quiet.

"Whatever." The same, big-headed boy snorted.

"So you like it up the bum, do ya?" Sneered another. Harry's cheeks burned both with anger and embarrassment. This is what he feared, these kinds of stupid comments from stupid people. He clenched a fist and stood up, only now realizing he was taller than two of them. His face hardened and his voice deepened.

But before he could speak a great shadow loomed over all of them.

"What's it to you!" Boomed Hagrid, his voice bellowing throughout the entire hall, silencing it until all Harry could hear was his heartbeat in his ears. He'd appeared behind the four boys and now looked down at them with rage in his eyes. If Harry didn't know Hagrid he would've thought he was going to throw a punch. "Bugga' off and mind your own business." It was the big-headed boys turn to gulp. He just tucked his hands into his pockets and walked away with his friends right behind him.

"Alright, Harry?" Hagrid said in a somewhat cheerful tone though Harry knew him well enough to detect the sincerity in his voice. He really wanted to know if Harry was okay.

"I'm alright." Was all he could answer. There were so many thoughts racing through Harry's mind. Why hadn't he said anything? Stood up to those boys. Just because he was gay and out of the closet didn't meant that he was weak or unable to stand up for himself. Hell, Harry had faced dangers and evils students in that hall couldn't imagine facing. He scolded himself for not speaking up, but also thought of Hagrid and how grateful he was to have him there to do it for him.

Hagrid. Harry hadn't even thought to go visit his friend to tell him in person. He only realized now Hagrid must've heard through the wind. He looked as if he'd been out for a long time, wearing an over-sized – even for Hagrid – brown jacket and goggles on his forehead. Harry could see the red marks around his gentle eyes where they had been. He usually wore those when he was on his Bike. If he was still dressed like this then he must have only got back recently and only heard recently too. He'd come straight to Harry.

"Bunch of-"

"Hagrid." Hermione butted in before Hagrid could finish. Hagrid's eyes widened and he must have just realized the entire hall – including the professors – were still listening. Hagrid looked up to the professors table and Harry's eyes followed. When Harry looked to the Professors Table, Dumbledore was on his feet and he was smiling. Not at Harry, but at Hagrid. Proud of his most trusted friend whereas the other Professors looked weary of the Half-Giant in their midst.

"Can we talk?" Harry said after a minute of silence. Hagrid nodded, huffed and sniffled up, before following Harry out of the grand hall. The moment the enormous doors closed behind them – of their own accord, apparently – the chatter beyond returned.

They didn't go far. They walked to the stone steps leading to the grand staircase but stopped there. Hagrid looked exhausted and Harry wanted to ask him where he'd been but he figured that wasn't what Hagrid wanted to talk about. They dropped down onto the steps and Hagrid leaned back, using his pink umbrella to rest on.

"I'm sorry I didn't come tell you in person."

"Couldn't have if ya wanted to." Hagrid said. Harry could detect no anger in his voice. "Been away all day, just got back. Didn't think I just dressed like this for nothin' did ya?" He laughed. His deep laughter could be felt beneath Harry's shoes. He smiled.

"Where'd you go?" Harry asked, figuring now as good a time as any to ask.

"To the Order." Hagrid said in a quiet, 'hush, hush' way as if there were Death Eaters roaming the school. "Dumbledore had messages for me to pass on, messages he didn't trust with the owls." He said that proudly.

"The order?" Harry said eagerly. "How are they? How's Remus, Tonks? Ron's parents?"

"All as well as can be. Working hard, I tell ya." He smiled and pulled out a water-damaged letter addressed to him. "They wrote back, told me to give it to ya." Harry was thankful, his eyes widened at the letter and it was an effort not to tear it open right then and there. But then he thought about it…

The letter he'd sent to Tonks and Remus went into detail as to why Harry believed Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater and now…So much had happened with Draco in just a short few days and Harry didn't know what to feel about it all. He shoved the letter into the bottom of his bag, he'd read it later.

"So you're…" Hagrid said after a few seconds of silence. Harry had lost his train of thought until Hagrid had spoken.

"Gay?" Harry didn't fear the word anymore. Just the reactions yet when saying it aloud the word summoned those butterflies.

"Gay." Hagrid repeated.

"Yeah." Harry said.

"Are ye happy?"

"Happy?" He hadn't been expecting that from Hagrid. "Uh – I'm as happy as can be…considering."

Hagrid just nodded like he understood. At least he did, Harry wasn't sure what was happening but he kept quiet anyway.

"Then I'm happy for you." He put one enormous arm around Harry's shoulder and pulled him in for a one-armed hug. Harry smiled.

"Thanks, Hagrid."

"But if any of them Slytherin's give you any hassle, you tell me alright?" He said deeper now.

Harry smiled and pulled back. "I don't think they will but I'd let you know." Harry said. He probably wouldn't, he wouldn't want Hagrid to worry, but it was the thought that counts.

"Well, best be off. Fang'll be missin me." He hauled upright and Harry shot up after him.

"I'll come see you tomorrow." Harry promised. "I'll bring Ron and Hermione." He added. It had been a while since the three of them visited Hagrid in his hut, had tea and just caught up on everything really. Hagrid smiled.

"I'd like that."

Hagrid left and moments later the doors to the Great Hall opened again and his friends appeared, including Ginny and Luna.

"Everything alright, Harry?" Ginny asked, nudging him with her elbow. He smiled a closed mouth smile at her.

"Yeah. I mean, nearly everyone knows now so what's there to worry about."

Other than the war threatening to tear this world apart, that was.

* * *

As it turned out, even though Professor Snape was no longer the Potions Master of Hogwarts, he still knew more on the subject than any other professor and spent most of his time still in the same, dingy office he'd spent the last god knows how many years of his miserable life. Harry wondered if even though Snape dreamed of holding the position of defence against the dark arts professor, he'd grown fond of the potions classroom and the art itself.

Either way, he had declared that Harry and Draco would serve their detention scrubbing cauldron's clean until Midnight.

Harry had discovered this when he stepped into the potions classroom to find said filthy cauldrons scattered about atop table tops and counters. The Potions' classroom was one of the largest dungeons in all of Hogwarts; large enough to allow at least twenty students to work comfortably within its walls at any one time. This fact reassured Harry that he might've been able to make it through this detention seen as though he and Draco could spend it on opposite sides of the room. Harry could pretend he was all alone.

Slughorn was there, humming absentmindedly to himself when Harry walked in. He was rearranging the glass jars stacked among the shelves. They were filled with foul looking liquids the colour of dishwater and moss and blood, not to mention the ones filled with pickled animals. In cupboards and cabinets there were pots and cauldrons filled to the rim with a variety of different herbs, spices, plants and ingredients witches and wizards and those who studied magic, would use in their practice. Other than the ingredients and tools needed to make potions, the other furnishings in the room were the table tops, a stone gargoyle in the corner, the blackboard pinned against the back wall, and the bookcases lined with ancient volumes on potion making and spell casting though these paled in comparison to the collection in the library. Especially in the restricted section, Harry thought.

Slughorn must have had many classes to teach that day as he wore an old, tattered – and Harry was sure a woman's – apron stained with splodges of colour. His grey hair was a mess atop his head, his hat scrunched up into his hand and he used it to wipe his forehead as he stepped down from the foot ladder he stood upon. "Ah, Harry, my boy!" Slughorn beamed when he spotted Harry standing by the doorway.

"Professor." Harry greeted him a forced smile. He remembered what Dumbledore had said. He wanted Harry to bond with Slughorn. Wanted for Slughorn to want to 'collect' Harry as he had done with Harry's mother.

"Here to serve your detention, are you?" Slughorn chuckled.

"Yes, Sir." Harry laughed with him. "I skipped classes yesterday. Was feeling a little under the weather." He lied.

"Yes, Severus- Uh, Professor Snape – told me when he asked if you and Mr. Malfoy could serve your detention in here. Where is Mr. Malfoy, anyway. He ought to be here by now."

Harry hadn't seen Draco in the Great Hall when Hagrid had shown up. He hadn't seen him in hours. He had assumed Draco was already here. Or maybe he wasn't coming at all? That thought filled Harry with hope. There would be more cauldrons to clean but they'd be worth the time alone without the awkwardness of having Draco by his side.

"I wouldn't know." Harry finally said. Slughorn gathered up his things, removed the stained cloak and then turned to face Harry.

"Well, I'd better be off. Try not to have too much fun" He joked.

"I won't. Goodnight Professor." Harry said as he turned to face the mountain of Cauldron's. Harry didn't know what they'd been making but it smelt of silver and salt and aftershave.

"Harry?" Slughorn asked, pausing at the threshold.

"Yes, professor?" Another forced smile as he set down his bag. He realized what was coming the moment he saw Slughorn's face, read the expression across it.

"I-I heard snippets of a conversation in the great hall, today – Wasn't eavesdropping, promise, I was just walking buy but I heard someone mention that you were telling people you, well, you were…" Harry considered finishing his question for him but he was curious about where this was going, so he waited. Slughorn struggled for a word, even though there was only one word. Instead of saying it aloud, he instead said. "That you batted for the other team?"

Harry laughed aloud at the idiom, then fought to keep quiet but Slughorn had seen him smile, heard his laugh. Harry just nodded, not feeling any worry at all for some strange reason. "That's correct, Sir."

Slughorn didn't move an inch, but his eyes did widen at this. Harry wondered if the Professor had been expecting it to be a nasty rumour going around and not the truth. He wasn't smiling. Harry wasn't worried, even if Slughorn wasn't okay with it. He was more worried about the other students because they were more likely to throw a punch than Slughorn.

"Professor?" Harry asked after a long silence in which neither one of them spoke.

"Right, Yes. Don't mind me, I was just curious is all." He said.

"It doesn't bother you, does it, professor?" _It had better not._ Harry thought. He didn't care what Slughorn thought but if the answer was anything resembling a confirmation then Harry's deal with Dumbledore was off. Dumbledore could find some other way to get what he needed, and Harry had a feeling Dumbledore would feel the same and Slughorn would be finding a new job.

Slughorn thought about his answer for a second before shaking his head. "No, course not, my boy. It's a different time and when I was a lad such things weren't discussed let alone encouraged."

"The world is a different place." They both spun to find Snape stood in the tunnel just beyond the door, his face hidden by shadows. His dark robes and pitch black hair blended into the shadows. His voice the only indication it was the former Potion's master. He stepped forward into the candlelight, it cast his shadow over the room. "And love…" Snape paused for dramatic effect, "Can be found in the most peculiar of places." The 'S' he finished on went on forever, as if he were hissing.

"Right?" Slughorn said, the way in which he said it made it sound like a question. Harry was lost for answers too. If he'd imagined anyone sticking up for him, the last person would be Snape. Harry hadn't thought about what teachers would think but now face to face with Snape he wondered how the teacher he despised so had reacted when he caught wind of the news. Harry then thought of McGonagall and Dumbledore and Madam Hooch and all his other teachers.

"Well, I'd better be off. Goodnight all." Slughorn said and he darted around Snape and left without another word or look Harry's way. Snape and Harry kept quiet and still until the sound of Slughorn's footsteps faded away.

"Potter." He addressed him.

Harry was half inclined to reply "Snape." But knew that would not go down well and he was in no mood an argument tonight. "Sir." He replied instead.

"Where is Malfoy?"

"I don't know, Sir. I don't keep tabs on Malfoy." A snide response considering Snape had defended Harry but bickering with Snape was second nature to Harry now. Snape circled Harry but looked towards the mess around the room. He dragged a long, bony finger along the rim of a cauldron.

"You're to clean every single cauldron in this room before you may leave. Understood?" Snape instructed and Harry just nodded. "Next time you will think before skipping classes."

"I was with Dumbledore." Harry argued back despite the lie.

"You still missed classes." Snape replied with a shrug. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from biting back. "When and If Mr. Malfoy arrives, inform him he has a detention tomorrow evening for being late to this one. And for every hour he is late another two hours will be added to tomorrows detention." Harry thought it was on the harsh side, but then remembered he was talking about Draco. But then he remembered he…was talking about Ghost.

Harry just nodded and looked away.

"Potter?" Harry looked back up. "No Magic." The corner of his ugly mouth twitched up in amusement at Harry's expression, but then he spun on the spot and swiftly left until Harry was alone in the quiet, cold dungeons.

With a sigh, Harry made his way to the gargoyle in the corner; water spurted from its mouth and down a stone drain. Harry found a tin bucket beneath a work bench and held it beneath the stream. He found out some old rags, cloths and sponges and hauled the bucket of water over to the desk. He hopped atop it, rolled the sleeves of his jumper up to his elbow and, cursing himself for skipping an entire days' worth of classes for no reason, got to work.

* * *

As the seconds turned into minutes and the minutes into an hour, Harry's nerves began to settle and soon enough he was somewhat comfortable in that dingy little dungeon. This was helped by the dozen candles he'd lit to brighten up the place and the warmth they emitted. And when he figured out a way to thoroughly clean the cauldron's without magic he was flying through them.

Harry had just started humming solemnly to himself when he heard the footsteps approaching from beyond the door. His heart dropped and he felt nerves tickle across his shoulders. He hoped- he prayed- it was Snape or Slughorn and not Draco. Anyone but Draco.

It was Draco.

He opened the door and slid inside quietly, as if he didn't want to be seen or heard but in a place as quiet as this a whisper could be heard from across the room. Draco looked…terrible. His skin was even pallor than usual, and he smelt of dried sweat. His usually combed and styled white blonde hair was a dishevelled mess. Almost as messy as Harry's himself. Purple bags hung under his eyes; he hadn't slept in days. Maybe since Harry discovered who he really was.

He failed to acknowledge Harry or the fact that he was late. He slouched across the room, his hands still tucked deeply into his trouser pockets. He was avoiding Harry's eye, just as Harry was avoiding his. He dropped his shoulder and the strap of his bag slid over it and fell to the ground with a thump; the leather flap fell open as the bag toppled over and half a dozen old looking books fell out.

Including the diary.

Draco knelt to collect them as quickly as possible and tried to use his body to shield the diary from view but Harry had already seen it and when Draco took a risky glance over his shoulder he knew it too.

"You're late." Harry said when Draco turned to face the mess. Harry sat on one of the tables with his legs folded beneath him and his hands ringing out a sponge in the bucket.

"I was busy." He snarled back but quietly, Harry had barely heard him.

"It better have been worth it because Snape's adding two hours to your detention tomorrow."

Draco just shrugged in response and kept his eyes off Harry. But Harry couldn't keep his eyes off Draco. He kept cleaning but watched the white-haired boy as he turned and shrugged off his robe, pulling it over his head. Harry caught a flash of stark white skin beneath Draco's white shirt before it dropped again.

"How long have you been down here, Potter?" Draco asked in a not so interested tone. Harry almost scoffed. Even when they were alone in the dark and miserable dungeons Draco still could not bring himself to speak to Harry without adding 'Potter.' At the end.

"Not long, _Malfoy,"_ Harry said back, not caring if the humour he found in this moment could be detected in his tone. Though he found what Draco was doing to be somewhat hilarious, it still made his blood boil and heart hurt with anger.

"Could have fooled me. It reeks of you down here." Draco droned back, sneering at the pot in his hands. Harry let the comment go over his head and took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy. He could already feel the tension turning into anger. Draco reached for one of the unclean cauldrons on Harry's table. He was across the table but it was still too close for Harry. He felt on edge and had done since Draco had walked into the room. So much for being able to imagine he was alone.

"I've done thirteen already." Harry nodded to the clean cauldron's he'd set aside beneath a work bench. It had been a struggle as the leftovers of the multitude of potions made that day simply refused to wash away. The cauldron's containing purple goo were the hardest and Harry had left most those for Draco, if he ever showed up and luckily, he had. "There's only two dozen left." Harry set down his sponge and dried his soapy hands on his trousers. His fingers were numb and had pruned.

Draco withdrew his wand but Harry shook his head.

"Snape said no magic."

"So?" Draco asked, pointing the tip of his wand at a cauldron. " _Tergeo."_ There was a small splash of sound and Draco smiled down at the cauldron and tipped the rim to show Harry – a spotless cauldron. Harry frowned. One cauldron took him nearly five minutes to clean and Draco had done it in a single second. Harry loved Magic but hated Draco for showing off.

"He'll know." Harry said, his excuse for not using the same cleaning spell as Draco. He continued by hand, no matter how much he hated it. By the time Harry had finished the cauldron he was working on Draco had cleaned half a dozen. All the hard work and effort was making Harry sweat so he removed his jumper, hopped off the desk, balled it up and shoved it into his bag. He then wiped his forehead on his arm. To say the dungeons were usually freezing, he was boiling in this room.

"I – I heard what you did." Draco said, dropping the snobbish tone he often used.

"What?" Harry asked. He'd heard exactly what Draco said but he wanted a few seconds to think, to wonder where this was going.

"I heard what you did. That…That you came out as Gay." He lifted two armfuls of cauldrons to the floor and kicked them beneath the table and got to work on the next. "It was brave of you." Draco added beneath his breath.

The compliment only agitated Harry. It made him want to yell at Draco but he strained to keep his cool as he said. "You didn't leave me with much of a choice."

"What?" He gasped.

"I wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of outing me to the world. If I was coming out, I was doing it on my terms, not yours."

"Out you? Harry, I've not idea what you're on about."

 _So, this how he's going to play it._ Harry thought to himself as he dipped the cloth back into the bucket and started scrubbing away. Harry had wondered how Draco would act once they were alone again. Would he lower his guard, show his true colours, talk to him the way he had talked as Ghost but it seemed to be the easy alternative for Draco: Act as if none of it had ever happened. As if he and Ghost were separate people. The anger Harry had been sitting on shot through his body in an instant. "Really? This is what we're doing?" Harry almost yelled, slamming the cloth down on the table. It didn't have nearly as much a dramatic effect as a book or his hand would have done but the action was loud enough to make Draco jump and look up with a start. "Stop acting like you don't know."

Draco huffed. "Know what? For God's sake, Harry?"

Harry hated him. Hated this charade he was putting on. Was he so desperate to come across in the dark about this whole horrible thing? Harry couldn't take it anymore. "Screw this." Harry was on his feet and heading for the door, uncaring in the cauldrons were unfinished. He'd done more than his fair share. Let Draco do them. He had his bag over his shoulder and had just opened the door when he felt a hand tug on him from behind. Suddenly he was hauled back into the classroom by his collar. The door to the stairwell slammed shut. With rage fuelling his strength, Harry pushed away from Draco and spun to face him again. Draco's expression was finally true. Once more, he'd dropped that hideous mask he always wore and his true feelings shone through.

"Harry, don't go! Will you stop running away and talk to me for once?" He said – no – pleaded. Pleaded with his eyes and his words. He reached for Harry's hands but Harry stepped away, stiff and unnerving. He didn't like hearing Draco call him by his first name; To Draco he had always been 'Potter!" Spat with equal amounts of disgust and disdain. And Draco had always been 'Malfoy.' To Harry. Out loud, at least. In his head he realized he never called him Malfoy. It had always been Draco when he was alone with his thoughts. "This is pissing me off! Will you just tell me what the bloody hell is happening?"

"What?" Harry laughed, "Did I ruin your joke by coming out? Well the jokes on you. You're lucky I haven't told everyone about what _you_ did." He didn't mean the words. Harry knew he would never come out publicly that he and Draco had kissed. One because he didn't want the uncomfortable glances and side comments not just from the Slytherin's but his own friends. Seamus, specifically. The second reason was because, Harry supposed, a small chance that Draco really was gay. He refused to believe it – he still believed this was a cruel joke on Draco's part – but he couldn't deny there was a chance and he wasn't going to drag Draco out of the closet the way he had been sure Draco was going to do to him.

"What are you on about?" He yelled, throwing his arms up. Harry could see a bead of sweat slide down Draco's furrowed brows. "Joke? Harry – It wasn't a Joke! I wasn't lying to you. And I wasn't planning to out you. I would _Never!"_ He shook his head and squinted his eyes, confused and shocked. Or he was good at playing it. "None of it was a lie, Harry, nothing…except my name." His eyes were so lost and hopeful at the same time. "And the Polyjuice potion. But that's it."

"None of it was a lie?" Harry exclaimed, unable to keep his voice down. He wanted to punch him and cry and laugh and hug him and kiss him and yell at him and –

Having your arch nemesis turn into the man you love overnight complicated – a whole lot of things.

"So you really are gay?"

"Yes!" Draco roared, his eyes teary. "It was true. I promise you. I promise. The only lie I told was who I was." Draco moved forward but before Harry could stop him he grabbed Harry's shirt. Harry could feel Draco's surprisingly warm hands through the thin cotton of his white shirt. "But you've got to understand why! I-"

The door handle jiggled. Draco released him and whipped out his wand; instinctually, Harry flinched and did the same. Whenever Draco had drawn his wand before and aimed it within Harry's general direction, it had been to duel him, but this time it was to cast the same spells Harry had earlier for privacy, locking the door and then dulling out all sound from within the room to whoever was on the other side. Harry had never seen Draco's wand this close before. It was about ten inches long and from the looks of it made from hawthorn. It wasn't as fancy as Harry would have assumed Draco's wand to be. It was simple, round from the dark brown tip to the black handle. The division made by two wooden rings just beneath Draco's thumb. Harry also noted how nice, Draco's fingernails were.

"Draco-" Harry said but the boy ignored him. He turned back to Harry.

"It wasn't a lie."

From the other side of the door they could hear muffled thuds Harry came to realize was a fist pounding on the wood. Then came Snape's voice on the other side. "Open…this…door."

"Draco, let him in." Harry demanded through clenched teeth, beckoning to the door. He couldn't believe Draco was doing this, locking Snape out of his own classroom – or what used to be his classroom – just to do…whatever Draco was doing.

"Not until you say you believe me."

"I don't." Harry snarled in response.

Draco leaned in until their foreheads were almost touching and Harry could fee Draco's hot breath against his face, brushing past his sensitive lips. He wondered for a moment if Draco was going to kiss him and he wondered if he would stop him if he did. "I meant every word I said. Every word, do you understand?" Draco wept, silver tears continuing to pour down his face.

In his peripheral vison, Harry saw the keyhole shimmer with golden light and he felt panic light up inside him like a match. He couldn't let Snape see them like this, see Draco like this. See Harry this vulnerable.

"I understand." Harry whispered, and the moment he said those words Draco let go and stumbled to the opposite side of the room, leaning with his shoulders hunched and his palms resting against the table top. Facing away from the door just as Snape burst through.

"I want to know who locked that door and why!"

No one needed to answer Professor Snape as he then noticed Draco's wand out and Harry's in his hand. Harry couldn't remember drawing it or why he would use it. He wouldn't use it on Draco. He didn't know if he ever could now. But with both boys holding their wands, Snape assumed.

"Fighting…. again?"

No one answered him. Both Harry and Draco would rather have Snape believing they were fighting than what was actually happening in that room.

"How disappointing." He smiled finally. "Do I need to bring you back tomorrow also, Potter?"

"I don't think that will be necessary, Severus." Said a cool, calm, collected voice from the door. Harry spun to find Dumbledore. The Headmaster of Hogwarts school appeared just as he had when Harry had seen him that morning; he smiled at Harry over his half-moon spectacles, coming across almost…proud? Harry hadn't heard the professor in the tunnel beyond and when he walked into the room Harry realized why. His footsteps were so light, you could barely make them out at all. There was the ruffle of his faded blue robes and his steady breathing but other than that he was silent.

"I do not believe Harry and Draco were fighting. From the looks of it, they were using their wands to clean these cauldron's."

"Nonetheless, I said no magic."

"In a magic school?"

"In Detention." Argued Snape softly.

Dumbledore laughed softly and waved off Snape's comment, dismissing the argument with a single flick of his wrist. If Snape could show emotion, Harry knew he'd be furious. Harry didn't know why Dumbledore was up this late or why he'd come to the potions classroom but he was glad he did. Changing the subject of conversation, Dumbledore strolled to one of the unclean Cauldron's and pointed to it

"Ooh. Tell me, Severus, my memory fails me in my old age, what the students were working on today. It smells wonderful. Like Lemons?" Professor Dumbledore pulled deeply through his nostrils. Harry could smell it from here. It smelt nothing like lemons or any kind of citrus. It smelt like metal and –

"Amortentia." Snape clarified and Harry stifled his gasp. Both Harry and Draco looked up at one another. When Harry had entered the room, he'd thought it smelt of metal and expensive aftershave. When Draco had entered the room, he'd told Harry it smelt of him. But…that had been before Draco had known what the students had been making a love potion that smells different to each person depending on what attracts them.

"How wonderful." Dumbledore said. "But it's late and I have the feeling it's been a long day for all of us. Why don't you boys go back to your rooms and get some rest." A dismissal. A beautiful dismissal Harry was forever thankful for. He snatched up his bag, tucked his wand into his cloak pocket and headed for the door.

"Thank you, Goodnight, Professors." Harry said, hiding his glee though it was only one of many emotions fighting to be freed. Dumbledore wished both he and Draco sweet dreams whereas Snape remained silent. Harry did not wait to see if Draco was too close behind. He ran for the stairs at the end of the hall and bolted up them as fast as he possibly could.

"Harry?" Draco whispered from behind when Harry reached the ground floor. He ignored Draco. He kept going and hurried throughout the school all while Draco followed him, called his name as quietly as possible and Harry ignored him every time. It was late – nowhere near as late as it would have been if Snape had kept them, but late enough that most of the lights were out; the stone corridors lit only by half a dozen candles here and there.

"Harry, stop!" Draco yelled when they reached the grand staircase and this time Harry listened. Only because of how loud Draco had yelled, his voice had bounced off the moving stairs, echoing high above. If anyone was around they were sure to have heard. Harry paused for a moment and tried to push away the imagine of Draco in his mind, to forcefully fill the hole in his chest. He considered continuing on, knowing all too well that Draco would not follow Harry to the Gryffindor common room when one: he could not enter and two: his own common room was back in the basement.

"What do you want, Draco?" Harry said, turning back to face him. Draco's hair was even more a mess now than it had been before and he was panting as if out of breath, struggling to keep up with Harry but determined to do so. They were on the steps between the great hall and the grand staircase; Harry moved forward until they were hidden from anyone on the stairway, anyone who might've been trying to listen in. That includes the paintings and everyone in them.

Draco had the same idea. He didn't hesitate before snatching up Harry's hand and pulling him behind the golden statue of the Architect of Hogwarts. Hidden away, Harry repeated what he'd said. "What do you want?" They were close, they had to be to remain hidden behind the statue which Harry thought was unnecessary; it was almost midnight, who would be up?

But then he was reminded of all the times he and his friends had snuck out at night and remained undetected.

"I want to know that you believe me."

"Believe what, exactly?" Harry said, again already knowing the answer but needing the time it took for Draco to explain it to think for himself.

"To believe that I'm…that I'm like you."

"Gay." Harry said. He found it strange to think just a few days ago he feared the word, feared the label in the same way Draco did now. He closed his eyes and squeezed them shut. Harry could see Draco's chalk white hands balling into fists at his side.

"Yes." Draco said, the word barley came out in a whisper. Despite the cold of the entrance hall he was sweating anyway. "Let me explain…everything."

"Fine." Harry said – or snapped. He couldn't help that. He was still fuelled by anger towards Draco.

"I meant every single word, Harry. When I found out it was you I was talking to through that diary, I considered throwing it away but I was amused by the idea of talking to you under a false name. I was reading a book at the time about a Poltergeist so I came up with the name Ghost. You and I – we never talked. Not really. We would curse one another out, calling each other names and we knew of each other but we didn't know each other. But through the diary I got to know you. The real you and I liked it." That anger keeping Harry wide away quickly dispersed when Draco slowly reached up to take Harry's hands back in his. His hands were warm, and clammy, and calloused even but at the same time he cupped Harry's own so gently. "I never had any romantic feelings or thoughts until you told me you trusted me enough to tell me you were gay. I couldn't believe it. Not only did we have so much in common already but you were in the closet too. It felt only right telling you the truth and…things just spiralled out of control from there in the most amazing way."

Draco was smiling now but the tears kept coming. Harry didn't want to punch him anymore but he couldn't think of any words to say. He agreed with what Draco had said. What they had spiralled out of their control before they knew it but the outcome was not something to complain about. Not at first, anyway.

"I…I fell in love with you, Harry." The words caught Harry's attention and his gaze shot up. Draco was taller than Harry so Harry had to look straight up and Draco look straight down. Harry wanted to look away but he couldn't bring himself to do it. There was a large glass window in the wall behind the statue and pearly white moonlight shone through, enveloping both boys, turning their white shirts crisp and bright and shifting the hue of Draco's grey eyes to silvery blue. "I fell in love with you and I needed to see you, to touch you, to kiss you. But I knew you could never feel the same way about me, the real me. _Malfoy_. I lied that night when I said I was using Polyjuice potion because I wanted to test your reaction. I wanted to see how you would handle being face to face with Draco, confessing to this face the feelings you tried so hard to hide."

Harry felt warm tears slide down his own cheeks and that only made him angry – angry he was crying again. But that anger once more vanished when one of Draco's hands slid up and cupped Harry's warm cheek.

"Then you ran. I chose not to tell you who I was, to wait until a better time when you might be more open to the idea of maybe – ugh" He groaned and looked to the floor. "Considering dating me as me but…but you're so persistent and stubborn and you had to ruin it by finding me in that bathtub."

The world went quiet as both boys remembered and Harry saw, heard and felt it all again and it was just as painful as the first time.

"I can't believe you thought it was all some kind of sick, demented joke? I would never. I-I'm ashamed I've let you and others believe I'm that cruel. But…I'm not. You know me, the real me, you're the only person who knows what I'm like inside and that person is Ghost! I am Ghost. Malfoy…Malfoy is just a mask I wear. It's who I'm supposed to be, the name and the image I'm born into. I created Ghost because I'm not brave enough to be that person as Draco. I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry, for some bizarre and strange reason, felt the need to hug him. So, he did. He leaned up and wrapped his arms around Draco Malfoy and pulled him into a hug. It was so unnerving at first for the both of them, more so Harry. Harry had hugged him before, he'd ran his fingers through his feathery white-blonde hair, he'd pressed their bodies together, he'd kissed that mouth and at the time had felt a burning need to have more but…but this was different. This time Harry wasn't hugging someone he believed to be Ghost. He was willingly holding Draco Malfoy close to him in comfort.

Draco was hesitant at first, Harry could sense, but he quickly fell into it. He squeezed Harry back and rested his head against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry too, Draco." Harry said, the words stumbling out. He closed his eyes, forcing back the tears. He was sorry for what he'd said.

And what he was about to say.

"I-I believe you're gay. And I understand why you lied but..." At the 'But' Draco's eyes darkened as if he'd foreseen the dark words Harry was about to say. "But the circumstances are too complicated now. There's so much to think, too much to feel. I literally just came out. I can't come out as having feelings for-." He cut himself off, not wanting to say anything too severe. Harry then pulled away and faced away from Draco. "I care about you, okay? I'm pissed you lied to me but I do care about you but I need time to figure who I am. What I want and how I feel about a lot of things."

"Harry? Please…" He went to take Harry's hand but Harry dropped it immediately.

"With everything that's going on, this war and our roles to play in it? It's all too much. Nothing can happen between us. Not now…I don't know if ever."

He could not bring himself to face Draco again. Could not bring himself to face Ghost either. He'd come to accept that they were one in the same. He was already beginning to accept that he in fact did not know the real Draco Malfoy and he had misjudged him but that did not mean that they could forgive and forget and play happy families. There was still a war raging around them and Harry and Draco both had huge parts to play in it. And without knowing the outcome of said war, without knowing if he would survive to see the end of the year let alone the rest of his life, Harry could not bring himself to admit that he was in love with Draco Malfoy too.

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Asher's Note:

Hello! So sorry it took a long, long time for me to update this story but a lot has happened! Anyway, I'm glad I finally got around to finishing this chapter and thankfully it is a long one! I hope you enjoy (If you can considering a lot of sad stuff happens in this chapter) but I hope to hear your thoughts and feelings anyway! Thanks!

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Responding to your reviews.

Annaburton5.5apple26: Thank you! I needed to include it somewhere and I'm glad I got a chance to last chapter. I agree. I believe Dumbledore has helped lots of LGBTQ+ Kids over the years and throughout his life.

Mysticalgems: Hello and thank you so much! Your reviews are always so lovely to read. They make my day! Thank you again! Yes, I love when it gets heated too but unfortunately, we haven't got much of that just yet. Maybe soon but it might not be what you are expecting!

MagnificentFern: Can I just said what an unusual name, ha-ha. Thank you for reviewing! Thank you very much! I knew when I decided to write Drarry story that the two were going to be as they were in the books. They were going to loathe one another until something brings them together. In this story, the only way I could think to bring them close was to have it happen without them realizing (Well – Harry realizing that is) hope you enjoy this chapter too!

CursedRaven: Thank you! I agree. Detention was the best place for them to be alone, unable to really leave and talk. It wasn't quiet as long as I had hoped or as pleasant but we shall what happens in time to come. Harry has accepted that what Draco said is true but he can't bring himself to deal with it in any way other than to push it all away.

Cadi-Pika1993: Thanks for reviewing and thanks for the idea! But…Harry and Severus? Hmm. Not really my thing. Severus is a tad too old for Harry, plus Severus loved Harry's mum so it would be a little weird ha-ha.

MissZHarleyQuinn: Thank you for your review! Of course, Ron and Hermione were fine with it, as was his other friends. Hermione did not know already but Ginny did, strangely enough. I think detention was interesting but what will come will hopefully be even better!

~Asher~


	7. Author Note

~ Asher's Note ~

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Dear Readers.

Hello, long time no see!

This is random but I felt the need to post this note to let you readers know why it has been so long since I have updated this – or any other – of my stories. Without going into too much detail, I will say that a few months ago my fiancé and I split from one another. The break up was long and hard and very damaging to my mental health. As I hope you can understand, finding inspiration and motivation to write has been very difficult but I assure you I am not giving up on this or any other story. I can promise I will update this story by the end of August. I am not giving up on it. I adore this story so very much.

Those who have contacted me to ensure I am alright, I thank you very much for your concern. It means the world to me. I apologise for taking so long but I needed to get healthy before I could even begin to think about writing. I am slowly getting there.

I hope you all understand, thank you so much and I promise a chapter is coming soon. Thank you so much, everyone.

P.S. This note will be deleted when I update the next chapter.

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~ Asher ~


	8. Chapter 7

~ Chapter Seven ~

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Harry rested his forearm against the tiled wall in front of him and let his head drop against it. The water streaming from the showerhead above grew hotter with each passing second but Harry could not care to notice until it started to scold the nape of his neck. He took in a deep, hot breath, threw his head back and winced as his hair slapped against that now sore spot, stinging. He ran his palms over his face, rubbed his eyes and blinked away the water clinging to his lashes. It was difficult to see and not only because he had left his glasses with the rest of his clothes in his locker through the archway to the changing rooms; he had lost track of time since stepping into the showers and during which thick steam had filled the entire room.

His shower lasted almost the entire length of his free study period. He knew if Hermione found out this was how he was wasting his time she would have a fit and gift him with yet another rant about how procrastination would do nothing to further his education and increase the chances of passing his N.E.W.T's next year whereas at least finishing half of the dozens of assignments he had left would at least give him a fighting chance at becoming an Auror.

He wished he had it in him to care.

Hermione would forgive him. She always did, eventually. The reason behind Harry's long shower was that the Gryffindor Quidditch team had just finished practice for the day and as they had begun to make their way toward the changing rooms to shower, Harry had dropped behind to have some one-to-one practice with his co-captain, Ginny. Or at least that had been the excuse. In truth, Harry no longer felt comfortable showering with the other boys. Showering after a game had begun to feel incredibly awkward for not only Harry but his male teammates too. They were too polite to say anything to him but Harry could sense their hesitance at showering when he was just across the room, he had felt their eyes burrowing into the back of his head making sure he wasn't watching, he had heard the whispers in all the chaos.

He couldn't blame them. In the past, Harry had risked a glance here and there but admittingly, he had been doing that for years before he even knew what he was looking for in the first place. But now everyone knew the truth, it made things unbearably awkward for them all. He had stopped peeking but it was easier said than done. It would have been the same as if a straight teenage boy was changing in the girls changing rooms. Of course, he would peek. But as he kept reminding himself, these were his teammates and their performance and gameplay on the pitch depended on their friendship off it, so in the end, Harry had chosen to wait around until all the other boys had showered before taking to the showers himself. Ginny, who knew him more than he had realised, it seemed, had told him it wasn't necessary but for Harry, things were easier this way.

Harry had just covered his head with shampoo when he heard footsteps splashing in the water as they approached and a male voice say. "Alright there, Harry?"

The voice had startled him and he almost slipped but caught himself on the showerhead. Spinning with his hands covering his crotch, he faced the boy who'd spoken. The boy walked into the shower with a towel wrapped securely around his waist and a smile on his face. The boy was tall and though Harry knew him to be in his year he looked older than most boys Harry's age. He was tall, yes, but not lanky. He was fit with broad shoulders and muscles to match. His hair was the colour of straw and as he turned on the shower across the room, darkened as it got wet. His eyes were a vibrant shade of blue which shined through the dark and dingy changing room.

When Harry didn't reply, the boy added. "Good practice, eh?" Harry twigged that he wasn't British and he remembered who this was. This was Oscar. Oscar was an American – or maybe Canadian – boy who'd transferred here from Ilvermorny when Harry was in his third year. He didn't know why, he'd heard rumours but as a victim of thousands of rumours himself, he hadn't deigned to listen to any of them. He'd never spoken to the boy but remembered how in his third year at the sorting ceremony, there was one thirteen-year-old standing amongst the eleven-year-olds, ready to be sorted the Hogwarts way. Harry wondered how students in Ilvermorny were sorted in whatever houses they had.

"Those Hufflepuff's got no chance next week." He said as he dropped his towel, threw it aside and stepped fully into the shower.

"Uh, yeah," Harry huffed in response, forcing out a smile. Stunned by Oscar's confidence, Harry turned and tried his best to keep his eyes on the floor and the soapy water disappearing through the drains. Harry allowed himself to wonder if the other boy, Oscar, was so comfortable around Harry – like this – because maybe he was the same. Oscar had smiled brightly at Harry as if he were pleased to run into him here but then again, most people smiled at him this way. He didn't want to toot his own horn – no pun intended – but he was a celebrity. It was in times like this Harry found himself hating his celebrity status. How could he possibly begin to tell who was friendly to him because they genuinely enjoyed his company or because of what being the friend of Harry Potter – the Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived – could do for them. He hated this. It must have been so easy for straight couples. They could run into one another in a bar or on the street and strike up a conversation and not have to waste time wondering if the other person was even Gay!

Harry was suddenly aware not only of the hot, naked boy humming absentmindedly to himself behind Harry but also of his own naked body; more specifically, his bare backside in full view of the boy if he only bothered to glance over his shoulder. Harry felt his anxiety rocket and would have bolted for the exit if not for the fear of slipping and making an even bigger fool of himself. Not to mention his hair was still full of shampoo. He quickly ducked beneath the stream again and rubbed his head until the milky pink water spilling down his torso turned clear.

He had imagined scenarios like this a hundred times. Running into a hot boy in the showers, alone, the two of them casually checking out the other before sticking their tongues down each other's throats and going at it like animals in heat. Most of these dreams he'd had with his hand down his pants. But he knew this was real life and real life didn't work that way, not usually anyway. It wouldn't happen like it did in the videos he'd watched on the internet back home. (In the early hours of the morning when the Dursley's wouldn't notice Harry had swiped Dudley's second computer.)

Suddenly Harry remembered someone else. The only other boy he had on his mind. Ghost. Him. With everything going on, even if Oscar spun Harry around now and reached for him, could Harry go through with it? He didn't know how he felt about the situation with Draco. He was angry, he knew that much, but nowhere near as angry as he'd first been when he walked in on Draco in the bathtub. He was angry but more so because he was so conflicted on what he felt. Harry and Draco had always been enemies, they'd always loathed one another and that was their mutual agreement. Everyone knew the two boys couldn't stand one another and Harry was content with that being the flow of things but now?

Now Draco had gone from his enemy to…something else in a single night. What even was Draco to Harry now? He wasn't a friend or a crush or what. Harry knew he cared, that much he knew, but to what extent was still unclear.

He ran his hands over his chest and down his stomach, then again over his arms and he bent to wash his knees. The approaching storm had made their practice hard and brutal. Even Harry, a seasoned player, had fallen from his broom when coming in to land and had skidded into the ground, covering his gear and any exposed skin with wet mud. He should have washed himself off as soon as he stepped beneath the stream but the hot water had felt too good to even more. This time alone in the showers, listening only to the sound of the water as it splashed against his skin and the tiles beneath him, had been calming, to say the least. Now he was no longer alone and still just as unwashed as he had been half an hour ago.

A wet thud made Harry snap out of his haze and he took a glance over his shoulder. The other boy had dropped a bar of soap and bent over to snatch it up. Harry only glanced at the boy's backside for a split second but it was enough to warrant a full erection. It was as if the boy had planned it! Fearing his body would him and the other boy seeing him, Harry snatched up the towel he'd left folded by the showers archway and held it over his crotch and stomach as he moved. He ran the towel over himself before throwing on a clean uniform and packing up his belongings. Oscar had just reached the lockers when Harry left the changing rooms and hurried away without even understanding why.

* * *

Harry tugged on the collar of his cloak and wrapped it snugly around him as he ascended the stone stairwell in the castle's west tower, heading to the Owlery. The Owlery was rather cold and drafty because none of the many arched windows had glass in them, allowing for owls to come and go through as they pleased. He heard the owls above, hoots and squeals and the sound of flapping wings; he hoped Hedwig was here.

Watching his step, he entered the large, circular room and carefully manoeuvred his way around owl droppings and piles of straw until he spotted Hedwig watching him from her perch. "Hedwig." He breathed aloud and stroked his numb fingers over her feathers. She leaned into his hand as he brushed it carefully over her beak. He was pleased to see her. She'd returned the day after coming out with a letter from the Order, telling Harry they had sent a reply to his last letter with Hagrid when he had visited. Harry had remembered the letter he had shoved into his pocket and had read it thoroughly. It was a response to his letter voicing his concerns and theories on none other than Draco and why Harry had believed him to be an ascending death eater.

Fortunately, the Order had dismissed Harry's concerns as nothing but speculation and without any proper proof, there was nothing they could do. For a second, Harry had considered going to Dumbledore about why he had believed Draco to be working with Voldemort but he quickly realized there was no point anymore. He couldn't imagine the Draco he knew (or thought he knew) now as a death eater. There was no way the Draco that had dragged him aside, kissed him and confessed his love, could possibly be working for the monster that wanted Harry dead. He felt silly looking back at his worries.

Harry had sent a letter back that same night – feeling sorry for Hedwig as she did deserve a rest – but he knew there was more news to share with the others back home. The school knew, the whole wizarding world knew, but he hadn't actually told Remus or Tonks or the Weasley's that he was gay. He felt it only right for them to hear it from him, even if they had already discovered it through the grapevine. So, he'd written back to them telling them the truth and he'd sent Hedwig on her way. Since that day, he had been eagerly awaiting a response and had been checking the owlery every evening and today, she had returned.

He opened the letter straight away and read what they had put, a smile slowly appearing on his face.

The letter was written from Tonks and she rambled on for an entire paragraph about how brave Harry was and how they still loved him and how when they met up again he would have to tell her about any boys he's seen around. She told him how Remus was proud and how he amended Harry's bravery, how the Weasley's too were thrilled and how Harry could be expecting a rainbow jumper from Mrs Weasley any day now. The letter ended with a small note from Remus saying that Harry's parents and Sirius would be proud. Blinking away tears, Harry folded the letter into his pocket then found some food for poor Hedwig. But as he turned to head back down the stairwell, he bumped into a beautiful girl with long, raven hair and robes lined with blue velvet.

"Cho." Harry gulped.

"Harry, sorry, I didn't see you there." She said in her lovely Irish accent which Harry adored.

"Yeah, no, don't worry about it." He said, forcing a smile to his face. Frozen with cold and nerves, Harry could not bring himself to move, to dart around the girl and avoid the awkward conversation that was sure to follow should he stay and chat. He had not seen Cho, let alone speak to her, since coming out of the closet. He hadn't been avoiding her, per se, but he had thought himself lucky he hadn't run into her until now. They had, after all, been interested in one another in some strange, weird way the year before.

Harry remembered their kiss – his first kiss – like it was yesterday but found it paled in comparison to the overwhelming, warm, centring kiss he had shared with…

Nothing had truly come of Harry's kiss with Cho. He had spent the months after mourning Sirius and they had lost touch when the DA stopped meeting on a regular weekly basis but it hadn't occupied too much of his mind. Cho smiled at him, seemingly feeling just as awkward as he did about the situation they both found themselves faced with.

"How're you?" He asked, filling the awkward silence.

"I'm well, thanks, Harry. How're you?"

"Yeah. Good. Terrific." He blurted out, not sure why he sounded as if he had a stutter.

"How is she?" Cho asked, nodding to Hedwig. Thankful she'd changed the subject and broken the forever silence between them, he smiled and answered.

"Tired, she's been in the air too much lately. Some food in her and she'll be alright."

"Good." Cho sang, stroking Hedwig's feathers, smiling into the owl's golden eyes if only to avoid Harry's. The silence returned and Harry felt the tension thicken again. Realizing he couldn't stand it any longer, he huffed a little to capture Cho's attention and nodded to the stairwell. "I'd better get going," He said.

"Yeah, well it was nice seeing you." She said and he believed her.

"You too, Cho." He nodded, then spun to hurry down the steps.

"Oh, and Harry!" He stopped and appeared back at the top of the stairwell. "I'm really proud of you." Cho turned away from Harry and went about her business, searching for her owl. She had done so to save him the embarrassment of having to come up with a response as his cheeks burned bright red. Instead of answering, he slowly made his way back down the icy steps, thinking of the way she had spoken all the way down. He only realized when he reached the bottom that it hadn't been as terrible as he had thought.

* * *

"Oh God, that sounds awful," Hermione replied as she took another mouthful of tomato soup. Harry shrugged and dipped a handful of crusty bread into his own bowl.

"It wasn't that bad, really." He said, taking a bite. The soup was hot in his mouth, too hot that it burnt his tongue and he reached for his goblet of water. He had just finished explaining what had happened with Cho in the owlery to Ron, Hermione and Ginny. At first mention, they had all cringed at how awkward it must have been for both Harry and Cho to meet like that and finally discuss Harry coming out.

"We didn't really discuss it." Harry had told Ginny. "It was more like we spent a minute asking how each other was, she asked about Hedwig and then when I went to leave she told me she was proud of me." Harry looked over to the Ravenclaw table and to his surprise, found Cho and three of her friends spin to look away, then they burst out into giggles at being caught out. Harry felt his cheeks flame with embarrassment but he returned to his meal and tried his best to ignore it.

"Aww!" Hermione said. "That's adorable."

"Yeah well, everyone telling me they are so proud is getting on my nerves." He confessed. As sweet as it was, it was annoying as hell.

Ginny lay her hand on his shoulder and said in an exaggerated, loving tone. "But we are proud of you, Harry!"

He withdrew his wand and aimed it at Ginny, causing her to burst into laughter and slap his arm playfully. Her light-heartedness warmed his bones. Ron had been onto something when he had told Harry, when Harry came out to him, that he had believed Harry and Ginny had been getting closer and closer. He saw that because they had. Harry and Ginny had both been somewhat flirty with one another, especially in secret, this past year but it had never gone any further than that. Partly because Harry hadn't instigated any further affection and partly because he didn't feel anything in return from Ginny. It was as if both had flirted and teased the possibility of the two of them as an item but Harry's coming out had dismissed those thoughts and it seemed to have been for the better.

"Come on, we'd better go," Hermione said, collecting up her thing. The others joined in. It was getting late and they had been in the great hall long after dinner had been served, eating the leftovers and partaking in idle prattle but it would soon be curfew and they could already hear the few remaining prefects in the hall hurrying students to bed.

But as he and his friends reached the foot of the Grand Staircase; a thought had suddenly come to mind and it was not a pleasant one. He had homework due. God, did he have homework due. Harry had so much late homework to complete he could spend an entire day studying and still be behind. Usually, this wouldn't bother him. There had been times in the past where he had greater things to worry about – in a way, he still did and in fact, more so than ever before – but when things had settled – the calm before the storm – he knew he ought to have at least tried to do something with this amazing, magical education he had been given.

"Hey, I'm gonna go to the library. Still got lots of homework to do."

"Harry!" Hermione literally shrilled. "You told me yesterday you'd done it all."

"I lied, sue me."

"Well you can't go to the library at this time, curfew's started," Ginny said.

"Yes, he can!" Hermione but in. "Go, go and by the time you return you had better be caught up. The one thing we don't need right now is professors cornering you demanding to know why you haven't completed their assignments."

Ron cracked a soft smile and chuckled a little. "Anyone else get chills when Hermione breaks the rules?" Harry and Ginny were the only ones to notice that Hermione's cheeks burned with colour. Ginny gave Harry a sidelong glance and turned to look back at Hermione.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." Was all she replied. "Go, but don't be out too late. Getting caught could also mean detention and-"

With a grown, he checked he had what he needed in his bag before saying to his friends. "I'll see you guys later." and set off for the library.

* * *

The library was empty this time of night, much to Harry's gratitude. Of course, after curfew, everyone ought to have been in bed but there had been a few times both he and Hermione had come to the library late at night to study or look into something and run into several others from all four houses doing the same thing – well, the studying. He doubted anyone else here spent their free time looking into how to defeat a certain Dark Lord.

Harry worked for what felt like hours but when he last checked his watch, it had been barely an hour. Still, he found himself resting his chin on his hand, his eyes feeling heavier and heavier and caught himself absent-mindedly watching the flickering flame of the lantern hanging on the wall for no particular reason at all. It was getting late and he was tired. It didn't help that a storm had hit the land; Harry always felt dreary in a storm.

He glanced towards the windows; Lightning flashed in the distant night, disturbing the pitch of the sky with cracks of light, though the thunder than followed sounded much nearer, above the school, almost. Rain pelted against the tall, arched windows in angled streaks, blurring the outside world. It didn't help that the cold which seemed in through the crack in the frame had also sunk into his bones, making any possible hope for warmth seem impossible.

He set down his ink quill and stifled a yawn as he stretched out and cracked his knuckles. The words on the parchment before him begun to blur too and he decided that homework be damned. What was one more detention?

Just as he begun to pack away his things, he heard glass shatter from somewhere in the restricted section.

He bolted upright at the sound and stopped breathing so he could listen. There, between the rumbling of the thunder outside, he heard someone – male – whisper the word.

"Bugger."

Frowning, Harry withdrew his wand, unsure why – probably something to do with the fact he was alone at midnight in a dark library, a storm raging outside and the little fact there were hundreds of people out there wanting him dead – and he walked softly towards the restricted section. He peeked through the iron bars of the gate, through which the restricted section lay. He could see no one but again when the thunder settled for a moment he caught the sound of breathing, the ruffle of a robe, the shuffle of a set of footsteps as the moved beyond the aisles.

"Alohomora," Harry whispered softly and a soft light lit up the tip of his wand for a brief second and the gate swung upon at his command. It creaked at first until he cast "Muffliato." Knowing the high creaking of the ancient hinges were muffled to anyone nearby, he stepped further into the restricted section. For a moment, he wished he had his father's cloak and flashed back to the night he caught Snape and Quirrell arguing down one of these very corridors, but he could not for the life of him guess who was here tonight.

He gulped as he approached and felt his breathing quicken despite trying his best to disguise it. He gripped his wand tighter and stepped forward once more. Just when Harry turned the corner, so did another. Harry's hand and wand flew up but he was too close and the figure hadn't seen Harry until it was too late and they crashed into one another with an 'Oof!"

The stranger's arms, which were piled with heavy looking books, shot out and sent the tomes sliding across the stone floor in a flutter of pages and leather. Harry, stumbling back to his feet, ignored the books to turn and face the person he'd run into. It was a student. A boy his age, he guessed. And the boy looked equally as terrified as Harry. He had mousy brown hair which looked to have been combed but a few strands had sprung loose here and there in the day. His nose was speckled in a few light freckles and his golden-brown eyes, warm and inviting in the dark cold of the aisle.

"Whoa! Harry, you scared me!" The boy said in an unexpecting high and somewhat cheery voice.

Harry, taking a second to catch his breath, shook off the boy's comment. "The feelings mutual. Sorry I snuck up on you like that," Harry beckoned to the end of the aisle. "I heard something break?" Harry said, dropping to collect the books as the boy did too. The boy lifted a lantern, one with a broken case and extinguished flame. Again, Harry flashed back to that night with Snape and Quirrell. He too had broken a lantern in there at the sound of Filch approaching.

"Caught it with my elbow when reaching for that one." He nodded to the hefty book Harry had grabbed.

"Right, done that before," Harry said as he and the boy, whom Harry felt was familiar, headed back towards the main library. Once through the restricted section gate, Harry locked it as the boy headed over to a table across the room, beneath which was a book bag and a folded Hufflepuff robe.

Suddenly Harry realized where he had seen the boy before! The Hufflepuff boy he had bumped into just beyond the Great Hall not long before coming out of the closet! The two had run into one another without realizing it and Harry had, in that moment, taken in just how gorgeous this boy was. He remembered distinctly thinking that this boy was not hot, but instead beautiful. The beautiful boy set down the pile of books, his broken lantern and took the last book from Harry when Harry handed it to him.

"Theo." The boy said, tucking the tome under his arm and holding out his hand. Harry tried his best to smile back as he took the boys hand, which he noted was warm and incredibly soft. Harry's own hand was very slightly calloused after years of tightly gripping the wood of his wand.

"Harry."

Realising what he had just done, Harry dropped his head and found a real smile appearing on his face as he listened to the boy – Theo's – laugh in response.

"Yeah, I know." He said, trying to fight back a smile. "You're up late?" He commented loudly as he reached into his bag and pulled out a sheet of parchment: homework. Harry checked over his shoulder towards the entrance to the library. Theo didn't seem worried about anyone overhearing and catching them out beyond curfew. "Couldn't sleep or off on another one of your infamous adventures," He joked.

"Uh – Yeah. The 'Can't sleep' one. Been a long day." He lied. It had been a very fast and very simple day. Theo nodded as if he understood completely what Harry meant. "How about you? Why're you up so late, Theo?"

Theo nodded to the work on the table top. "Overdue assignments. Should have spent my free period catching up but ended up taking a nap instead. Only just remembered I've four to hand in tomorrow, first period." He then blew out a breath and slumped into the bench. "So, to the library."

"I should have probably done the same. I spent my free period showering." Harry laughed, his mind flashing back to the blonde-haired boy's bottom. "Hermione would kill me if she knew I left here tonight without finishing."

Theo shrugged. "I don't know her that well but Hermione seems a lot kinder than most of the girls our age."

"Oh! She is, she's lovely. But when it comes to homework she's bloody terrifying. Just ask Ron."

"Is, uh …. Is Ron your boyfriend?" Theo suddenly asked as he begun to pack away his things.

The question had stunned Harry that much he almost tripped over his own feet. Harry tried to picture it; he and Ron as a couple. He couldn't deny that Ron had only grown more attractive in the passing years and now the worst of puberty was out the way but whenever he imagined touching Ron in that way, kissing him? It gave Harry tingles and not the good kind. Like he was imagining kissing the brother he never had. Harry wondered how Ron would take the news that people are beginning to think that he and Harry were more than friends. In a way, he doubted Ron would care enough to make a big deal out of it. On second thought, Harry was more curious how Hermione would take the news of Ron and Harry's supposed relationship.

"No! No, definitely not! what gave you that idea?"

"Just with you coming out people have been talking. It made me wonder if that's why you and he are so close."

"No," Harry replied with another smile after half a minute. "No, not my boyfriend. It'd be too weird, he's my best friend."

"Right, yeah, sorry. Just curious."

"Don't worry about it." Harry didn't realize it until just now but when Theo had started to pack away his things, Harry had absent-mindedly begun doing the same. Theo must have realized this because when he was ready to leave – the new books he had 'borrowed' from the restricted section in his backpack, he waited by the edge of Harry's table for Harry to finish packing. Immediately, Harry's heart began to beat faster in his chest and he was suddenly aware of how dry his lips were, how hot his forehead felt. Theo was stood there waiting for him, but why? Maybe he was just being polite, but then again maybe there was another reason?

That built-in worrisome wonder Harry had plagued him again. He had to stop assuming, hoping, that every cute boy that was kind to him was gay or the least bit interested, but Harry couldn't help it. Theo had asked if Ron was his boyfriend and from the look on his face and the way he spoke, with caution and hesitance, it sounded as if he was really interested and at the same time worried about Harry's answer.

Neither one of them acknowledged that they were walking out of the library together – not at the same time – together. Side by side but silent. Harry didn't like these awkward silences, they made everything worse but just as he went to speak, Theo broke the silence for him.

"I wanna say that it's brave of you to do what you did. You inspired my sister to come out." He didn't look at Harry as he said it, he kept his eyes forward as he and Harry headed down the stone steps and turned to walk down the quiet hall.

"Oh, thanks?" Then a question bugged at him. "Your sister, she's…"

"Gay. Well, a lesbian. Whatever. Doesn't matter what you call it."

"Cool, I'm glad I could inspire her to do that." He said because it felt as if he should have said something along those lines. It was true though. Things had changed in the week that had passed since coming out to the world. Occasionally he got a dirty look here and there and he'd catch sight of a huddle of people who'd conversations suddenly died when he neared, but in truth, most people in the school had let it go. Harry being gay was last week's news, this week they had moved onto something else. That was high school for you.

He was glad it was kind of over. And he could not bring himself to regret the decision to come out. It had made his world so much truer, so much freer. He'd heard rumours of other teens from all four houses and all through the seven years coming out of the closet as not only gay but all forms of LGBT. He had done that. His confidence had inspired other, closeted children to accept themselves. True, he had come out more out of fear of being exposed for who he was by Draco but the others didn't need to know that, they had felt inspired by him and that made him incredibly proud, especially when he heard stories like Theo's sisters'.

Just as Harry went to speak, Theo's arm shot out across Harry's chest, keeping him still and when Harry looked to him for an explanation, Theo lifted a finger to his lips.

"Shhh." Then the world around Harry spun as Theo hauled them both into the shadows. Harry had only a second to see where Theo was taking him; he was heading towards a stone alcove built into the wall to their left in which a knight in shining arm stood guard with an ancient looking sword in his clasped hands. Harry was about to speak again but thought back to how Theo had stopped suddenly and hushed him and, for whatever missing reason, Harry trusted his judgement.

The stone alcove was narrow, but what you could not tell from looking at it was that the alcove went deeper into the stone wall than you would have guessed. Not by much but there was enough space behind the knight for two people to fit into snuggly. Much like Harry and Theo were now. Harry wanted to speak but suddenly he didn't care why Theo had dragged him behind here unexpectedly, all that mattered was how they were pressed up together by the narrow stone walls, how Harry could feel Theo's hot breath on his face and wondered if Theo could feel the same. How the curving tip of the alcove meant both boys heads were bent at an uncomfortable angle which pressed their foreheads together.

"Theo-" Theo shook his chin and Harry froze but that's when he understood why. Footsteps, footsteps approaching the library from the direction in which they had been walking. Realizing it must have been a professor or a prefect Theo had spotted, Harry understood why the sudden need to hide.

As the figure approached, both boys held their breath and looked into the eyes of the other. Harry found himself counting the freckles on Theo's nose, the small scar on his left eyebrow. The same scar Harry had asked Draco about when he wondered if this boy – Theo – might very well have been his Ghost.

As the footsteps lessened, Ghost turned around and leaned forward to peer out from behind the armour – shamelessly pressing his backside against Harry in the process. Harry tried not to stare at the boy's backside but found it hard, and soon found something else getting hard also. Theo stepped away thankfully, out from behind the armour. Harry angled his bookbag as to cover his crotch. Theo was peering down the end of the corridor toward the library where the footsteps continued. He huffed a little puff of laughter.

"That was close, come on." He laughed and then lead Harry further on.

* * *

It wasn't long before the boys were stood, side by side, on one of the many moving stairwells. It was quiet and had been since the two of them had left their hiding spot and hurried in the opposite direction of whoever had been searching for students out of bed. As they'd walked, Harry had assumed it was Filch. It was always Filch. But his train of thought had taken a different track when Theo turned to face him again. He stood on the step up from Harry which meant he looked down into his eyes.

"I go down from here." He said, nodding further down. Down? Harry thought, but then he suddenly remembered the Hufflepuff common room was in the basement.

"Okay, cool," Harry said, unsure of what to say. Theo bit his lip and nodded.

"It was good to see ya, Harry."

"You too, Theo," Harry said, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible, knowing that even whispers could echo in this place. Then for a moment, Theo seemed to hesitate as he lifted his foot and he kept his golden eyes on Harry. Harry didn't dare move and wondered if he ought to have said something but then Theo hurried to the bottom of the stairwell they stood on in a rush. Harry felt his entire body relax, his shoulders loosen when Theo passed. But it took him only a moment to tense up again when he realized Theo had not continued onto the next moving stairwell, he'd paused.

Harry spun just in time to see Theo do the same. He was resting against the stone railing with his arm, that same perplexed and cautious look on his face as he again bit his lip.

"Are you okay?" Harry said in an unintentional whisper. He took a step down.

Theo's eyes shot up to meet Harry's and this time Harry was the one looking down. Theo stood right beside a flaming lantern on the wall and Harry, whilst waiting for Theo to say something – do something – couldn't help but notice how the shadows danced across his face, admire how the flame reflected in his golden eyes like embers. "Um…do you want to do something tomorrow? Maybe?" Then before Harry even had time to register the words, Theo added. "With me?" Harry, completely bewildered, took a moment to think about what these truly meant rather than what he hoped he meant. Here was this hot – no, beautiful – guy asking him out but of course, those same worries that had haunted Harry in the showers with Oscar returned and he wondered if Theo was asking him out or to hang out. Harry felt his cheeks burning again, felt his collar chafe. He knew what he needed to ask and he knew he shouldn't have been embarrassed by it – Theo had to know he would be thinking it? Harry felt the words slur but he spoke as clearly as he could, and as confidently as he could.

"As-As in a date?" Theo wasn't looking at him when he replied, he was looking at the stairwell slowly approaching. Harry wondered if Theo would bolt. He didn't.

"I don't know," Theo finally said after a moment. "That would depend on your answer."

"Yes." He threw the word up without thinking about it. Theo's face lit up. "Sure, I mean, why not. Yeah, great." He felt a ramble coming on so he bit his own tongue to keep from babbling. Theo nodded and smiled and nodded again.

"Okay, um…how about I come see you at breakfast, we'll figure something out?" He suggested.

"Breakfast is good, great, even."

"Breakfast." Theo finalized before turning and swiftly rushing away. Harry watched him go until he turned another stairwell and vanished from view. After letting out the heaviest breath imaginable, Harry turned around and slowly made his way to the Gryffindor common room.

"Breakfast." He smiled.

* * *

What neither Harry or Theo knew was that there was another in the library that night. Someone in the aisles who'd been there since before Harry had arrived and who'd been too afraid of his own emotions to leave. Someone they had not seen, nor heard, nor felt.

A Ghost, if you will.

A Ghost who'd heard everything.

* * *

Asher's Note:

Hello readers! Long-time no see! It has been too long and I am thrilled to be back to writing this story. For those of you who did not see the author's note which has now been deleting, it was a brief explanation for why I have been away. Don't want to go into too many details now but my finance and I separated and it was not a healthy break-up nor recovery, hence my time away. I am back though and ready to return to the OTP that is Harry and Draco. Or as this Chapter may show, Harry and Theo? Ha-ha. I want to thank you for your kind words in response to my departure and I hope to hear your thoughts on this chapter and chapters to come!

* * *

Responding to your reviews.

MagnificentFern: Thank you for reviewing! I hope you haven't forgotten about this story! Chapter 6 did have a bittersweet end and we will have to see how things work out in future chapters to come! Thank you! I try to write Snape the way I see him. Many writers have Snape be horrible all the time and he isn't horrible, he is just sad and of course, he would dislike Harry for it. Coming out and embracing love is something Snape, I think, would understand and respect as he never had the chance to embrace his love before it was too late. Your name is cool and yes, there are many unusual names on this site! Mine is pretty boring in comparison. Thank you also for your kind words. It has taken time and although that person to bring the bubbles back has not shown up, I am in no rush to find them. I would much rather take time for myself now and do some writing. I hope you enjoy.

Gime'SS: You're welcome, I hope you enjoyed and enjoy this too

Mysticalgems: Thank you! Of course, Draco would use magic when told not to! I am so sorry the next chapter took so long and include no Draco – not really, anyway.

Kigen Dawn: Thanks for reviewing. Of course, they do, they've been enemies for years and in a split second, they're in love. It's going to shake things up. As for their happiness, we will one day find out.

Bekito7: Thank you so much for your kind review! My apologies for such a long wait. I hope you enjoy.

Annaburton5.5apple26: Thanks for reviewing! And you did? Good! I was hoping everyone would catch on but had to put in an explanation just in case! And thank you, means a lot.

Guest #1: Thank you so much! Sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy.

StarlightSinger32: Thank you so much, that's what I was going for! As for the battle of Hogwarts, I'm not sure. I may have to find a way to fit this story around the events of all Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows. I'm not sure how that'll work. Maybe a time jump or something? We shall see.

BookGirl111: Thank you very much. As you can see it has taken me some time but I have returned. Perhaps not with the most exciting chapter but there will be more to come!

The Night Goddess: Don't feel a bum! I didn't expect anyone to message me in the first place as how could anyone begin to guess something had happened! I'm touched! Life is a rollercoaster, you have that right. I believe I'm in a better place now, mentally and physically, as you said.

Percy Ross Vulturi Uchiha: Ha-ha. Thank you for reviewing! And we might!

Ern Estine 13624: Thank you, I hope you enjoy.

YaoiHellian: Thank you very much. I hope you enjoy this chapter and chapters to come.

FlyOnArrows: Thank you. It is and I'm Glad I am finally ready to continue!

~Asher~


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